My Friend Trouble

Lara:  How you been?
Me:  Staying out of trouble.
Lara:  Trouble rides shotgun when you drive. 
Me:  Okay, so I got into a little trouble… 
 
I get in trouble.  I don't mean to but I always do.  I try to be a nice guy and I think I'm doing the right thing but then the next thing I know, I'm in trouble. 
 
On a recent vacation, I walked out of my hotel room with a drink in my hand to get an item from my car, spilled the drink and was promptly arrested for public drunkenness and disturbing the peace in a small town in rural Georgia. 
 
"The peace around here is really fragile," I told the arresting officer. 
 
"I can't wait until they scrub you with bleach" was his response. 
 
As a teenager, I worked at a McDonald's restaurant drive-thru window for thirteen minutes.  There an elderly woman complained about a two cent increase in the cost of her meal for more than four minutes.  I tried to help her out. 
 
"Ma'am," I said because I try to be polite.  "If it bothers you that much I'll throw you the fucking two cents from my own pocket."
 
I was proud of myself for my generosity.  She got the manager to fire me for saying the f word. 
 
I thought I was helping the poor old lady.  All she heard was cussing. 
 
(McDonald's, true to their word as a stand-up company, sent me a check for my thirteen minutes of work.) 
 
A friend of mine is going through a rough patch financially.  I keep buying him lunches and dinners and he keeps complaining that I pay too much for his meals. 
 
"Suck it up and enjoy the damn food," I scowl at him (he's the type of person at whom you often must scowl). 
 
"You just… you don't have to do this."
 
"You mean buying you lunch hasn't been made a Florida state law." 
 
That's when he starts cussing.  And after he starts cussing, I start cussing. 
 
And the next thing you know the manager is threatening to call the police because patrons are complaining about the two guys who keep finding more inventive and rude ways to insult each other. 
 
That's life.  Well, for me anyway.  I get into trouble. 
 
On my way back from Saint Louis (after Easter), I drove around the state of Georgia.  A lot of people get in trouble in Georgia and I had already enjoyed my fill of its hospitality, which did involve quite a bit of bleach. 
 
I stayed the night in New Orleans.  Now, New Orleans is my kind of town.  I've been there a few times and enjoyed every minute of my life there.  So I knew I would enjoy the Saturday night I spent there on my way back home to Tampa. 
 
While sitting in a bar in the middle of the afternoon in New Orleans (you can do that there and no one even judges you), I told a random and entertaining stranger about my disturbing the peace violation. 
 
"Well, you're in the right town now," he said.  "You can't disturb the peace around here with anything shy of a handgun." 
 
You probably won't believe this, but I have never, not once, been in trouble in New Orleans. 
 
And it's nice to know that America has one place like that for me.  It really is.