You’d think someone who does enough cocaine that they’ve bothered to purchase a coke spoon would realize that turning the overhead light off in their busted-ass Benz while they’re snorting a giant pile of cocaine would probably be a wise idea.
Or perhaps you’re just doing so much coke that you really don’t care who sees you inhaling a small ski mountain.
Either way, thanks for being an L.A. cliché. This will be an awesome story I tell to people for years to come, even once I’ve fled this (often literally) flaming cesspool.
Also, I’m very glad I managed to make my way out of that parking lot before you even considered starting your car. As amusing as that was, I doubt it would have been anywhere near as funny if you’d attempted to drive instead of simply sitting in your car, high as a goddamn kite.