Sometimes My Friends Are Idiots

Sometimes my friends are idiots. I love them, but sometimes they are idiots. Then again, sometimes I’m an idiot. I guess it all works out.

Either way, one time I was driving around with two friends of mine. Suddenly, since we were over by the Council Bluffs Casinos, we decided we wanted to go see the Black Angel. For those that don’t know, the Black Angel is the Ruth Anne Dodge monument:

It’s just a monument, but there are a plethora of local legends regarding the statute (claiming that Ruth Anne Dodge killed her kids by locking them in a trunk and pushing the car off a cliff, that if you touch the statue you’ll be paralyzed, the usual). Of course, not a single one of them have any basis in fact. None of the local kids ever remember who Ruth Anne Dodge really was.

Anyway, we wanted to go. However, neither I nor my friend driving knew how to get there (I was riding shotgun). My friend in the backseat swore he knew how to get there and started giving us directions. He told us (or rather, my friend who was driving): “Go left.”

As it happened, my friend in the backseat really didn’t give a crap about going to the Black Angel. He just wanted to drive around. He didn’t say this, but we should have figured it out given the fact that he just kept saying: “Go left.” We didn’t though. We just kept going left.

Eventually, we realized that our friend in the backseat was yanking our chains. By this point we were way down some dirt road in the middle of nowhere Iowa. There was literally nothing, no buildings or turns or other roads. There was just the road we were on, going on endlessly. For some reason, we just kept driving.

Finally, I think my driving friend snapped. All of a sudden, he started driving faster, like he was actually trying to get somewhere…and in a hurry. “What the hell are you doing?” I asked. “Ozzy! Ozzy’s down there! This is the road to nowhere!”

My friends (and me as well, apparently) are idiots sometimes.

About David S. Atkinson

David S. Atkinson enjoys typing about himself in the third person, although he does not generally enjoy speaking in such a fashion. However, he is concerned about the Kierkegaard quote "Once you label me you negate me." He worries that if he attempts to define himself he will, in fact, nullify his existence...
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