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A group of men in wrinkled shirtsThe one in front points toopen in appreciation I nod and raise roup bends over and pukes right beforeit to a trash can

Hell, I haven’t had a night of partying like that in a long time Not since I was in Nashville, I think I was at the top ofback-to-back cha injury fuckedin LA

Sometimes I feel a lot older than twenty-nine

I shift in uard at the security gate to the 90 as Saints, rins at me

“Thanks, Mr Hagen I know your face, but I have to check ID this first time Rules and all I’ll wave you in from now on”

“Thanks, I appreciate it” I reach“What’s your name?”

“Russ I’onna prove ‘een I know you are”

“It’s Maverick” A faht, Russ We’ll know soon, won’t we?”

“Yes, sir, ill”

I exhale y and ask, “Does it matter where I park inside?”

His expression turns serious as he points to a tunnel entrance ahead “You’re gonna park in the VIP deck, Mr Hagen Any of the spots in there are good, but I think you should take the best one, ‘cuz you’re the star of the show Double park and show ‘erin and then continues “Then you’ll take the elevator up one level and follow the signs”

“Thanks, Russ Have a good one” I wave at him and make my way into the tunnel, the darkened one-way entrance sing up my vehicle

No turning back now I’ve worked ue and a hell of a lot of frustration to get here