If it's late at night, and you've been drinking, and can't remember where you parked your car, it might be one of them... blessings in disguise. No, don't get your friends to help you comb the streets looking for it, this is a divine sign from God that you should not attempt to get into or operate any heavy machinery. Also, let me tell you that saying, "All you can hope is that in 30 minutes I'm sober enough to drive," is not a particularly comforting statement to the person you intend to drive home. Or, anybody else.
Not having a car myself, none of this is a problem for me. And even if I did, it wouldn't even occur to me to drive anywhere inebriated because I'm originally from Connecticut. A state where driving anywhere at 2 AM is enough incriminating evidence for a cop to legally pull you from the window of your car and choke you into unconsciousness with a baton.
Anyways, my solution to getting home is much more eloquent:
DON'T GO HOME.
Just think about it. Everyone has a friend who lives in the city. They won't mind if you sleep on the couch.
You might mind. But probably not until morning.
Speaking of which. Have you ever been walkin around in the cool breeze of a warm summer day. Green trees, golden rays of sunlight, that good stuff. And then. You wake up half naked, stuck to a plastic sweaty couch with bits of broken glass hiding in your flesh? This means it's morning, you're no longer intoxicated, and you're now fully capable of making good decisions again. Your first one can be getting the fuck home.
Walking through Philadelphia, past the art museum, during sunrise is probably one of the best ways to start any day. Of course, normally, I wouldn't have little specks of glass in between my toes from the shattered candle that mysteriously took a suicide plunge into the couch last night. But, its still a pretty nice walk. Except, I feel slightly delinquent, seeing as everyone else at this time of day seems to be awake solely for the purpose of walking their dog. Having no dog (being dogless) elicits wary glances from passing strangers.
Oh, and it could be the fact that I'm limping a little, and my face probably looks like its been kicked in by the grill of a freight train.
It could be that.