
2:30 am on a Saturday. My first weekend back in Chicago. I was in the passenger seat of a brand new Mustang GT that was doing 92 mph down Lake Shore Drive. The girl behind the wheel was drunk. I was drunk. And a famous NBA player was in his Hummer desperately trying to run us off of the road. Not even 48 hours earlier I’d been in Carbondale crying my eyes out over an ex-girlfriend and wishing for death. Now I was digging my nails into the dashboard and praying my life wouldn’t end like this…