Drunk Dreams: Life Without Police

“How many drinks did he have?”

I hate that question, let alone when it’s mockingly from a stranger laughing smugly as he strolls out the bar. Who really counts if they’re having fun?

I tried to respond groggily, as Main Street swayed in front of me; it felt like a cruise ship hitting choppy waters. I just needed something — scratch that — anything — to lean on for a second. The…