Sketch Flows Freely

Work tonight was particularly sketch-ridden, and, for me, mostly from an observer's point of view. Although I can't say I was totally within the law in my own right, I was certainly of much less concern to the venerable Worcester PD than many others.

The night started out very slow. Only three delivery runs from 9pm to midnite. That kinda sucked, because that meant less tips for me. I made the same amount tonight that I did on tuesday, which is less than I should've made. I was good, and didn't take any self-established breaks, as I normally do.

Around midnite business picked up a little. To celebrate, I stopped at the Sahara and had a "Crunk Juice" (Red Bull and Hennessy) with Pluck and Helen. This was OK, since I drank quickly and hurried back to work to find only one order waiting for me.

Shortly after this, Park Ave became a battleground. There were cops flyin' down the street like gangbusters, sirens blaring, pushing their V8 Crown Vics to the edge of their capabilities. It seemed that people were unwilling to go home at the event of last call, since all the cops were gathering at the bars, mostly the ones across from State (or "Staww-tay," if you want to be classy)... I can't remember the name of those bars, it's like moynahans and something else. But anyway, some shit was goin down there, at least 5 cop cars and some tow trucks worth.

I decided that this warranted a trip back to the Sahara for a shot of Tequila. That was a good idea. Cops and alcohol are just such an awesome combination. Anyway, I made a bunch more deliveries and people were generally dicks about tipping, which is typical.

I thought there would be some kind of interesting point to this story, but I'm sick of typing and it's time for bed, so Fuck y'all.