So I asked him what he's doing, you know, what the fuck are you doing? He mumbles something, I turned down the music and ask again: what are you doing man? He says something, something, I think he asked if I need help, and for some inexplicable reason I told him to get gone: get going, go on, get outta here just like he was a dog! I said it about two or three times just like he was a dog too. At that point I realized he was drunk, because he gave me the unmistakable drunkards butthurt whenever they're told to do something. You know, like: sit your ass down Bill! And Bill's all, 'like hell I will!'.
And this weird motherfucker just sat there next to me, occasionally looking up at me, and then somewhere else. He did that for a good minute, it felt longer.
So I put the bike in neutral and backed up. I didn't want to be beside him and I definitely didn't want to get in front of him. We had already established that crazy behavior was a possibility. On that point I'd say it's a draw (I mean I did pull over). Anyway, as I'm backing up I look at his plate and can't believe it, he's a Florida man!
Christ, he might've just been looking for connection, and now I feel kind of bad. Like I probably fucked up an opportunity for a genuinely interesting something or other. It's not how I would go about things, but I'm not a Florida man.
Or I just avoided having my face eaten. It's probably a coin toss really.