An Australian man mourned a dead friend by drinking himself into a stupor. His friends dropped him at his house and he staggered several feet before collapsing on the lawn. A neighbor took a photo which ended up on out Google’s StreetView website as DRUNK GUY.
“I’m not too happy about it.” The drunk Aussie said about his fame. “But it was for a mate.’I know what he would have done if I left – he would have partied, too. That’s what I would’ve wanted him to do so that’s what I did with some friends.’
Street View is the latest invasion of privacy foisted on the public by a bored Internet audience.
It could have been any of us.
On Christmas Eve 1970 my bosses from Zayre’s thanked the overtime workers with a bottle of Whiskey. I drank it with Mitch, the sports clerk. We went to Eddie’s Diner next to the Quincy Shipyard’s and ate breakfast. The bacon and eggs didn’t stick with me long. I puked them on the table and staggered from the diner to drive home in my 1965 VW Bug.
It was snowing on 128 and I opened the door to guide my path with the dividing lines on the highway. I somehow arrived home without driving into the winter scenery and parked the car in the front yard. I never made it to the door and crashed on the lawn.
I was lucky to not freeze to death.
“How you feeling?” My father woke me under a blanket of snow.
“Not good.”
“Good.” He lifted me to my feet. It was dawn. “Now get the car in the garage and take a hot baht. By the way. Merry Christmas.”
It was more a blurry one.
I was lucky to have reached 20 let alone 60.