Wait, Kris is a drunk hooligan?

Get in the cab.

That's what I remember most from The Road Beneath My Feet

What I learned while on the road is that you cannot get somewhat into the cab; you cannot have a leg in and the rest of you waiting to see where the cab goes.

I also was reminded that the best people for me are the dregs; the unwashed miscreants covered in sin and ink.

The antiseptically clean, live-life-by-the-rules, safe motherfuckers... I was reminded to always run from those. Theirs is a special kind of cowardice. They'll run in a fight, turn on you to cover their ass, fuck you and forget to leave the money on the night stand.

I assume that last part is true. Seems like something they'd do.

They want in the cab so bad but, they need to know where it's going, when it will arrive, the driver's history, the personal history of the other riders, what time they can expect to be home, a contact number in case of emergency... blah, fucking, blah, blah.

Their sense of adventure stems from everything they've ever read and nothing they've ever done.

Those people? They'll disappoint you and let you down every time.

The lesson: always leave those people on the curb.

Except for you, Kris. You are the squeakiest of clean, antiseptic types. And yet... you get out there are live this fucking life (when you aren't overworking). You have my back like a fucking drunk hooligan after a Man-U match.

You're an anomaly.

I guess that makes you the weirdest of the weird.

The lesson: Rudy has no fucking idea what he's talking about.

Titty sprinkles!


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