Day Drinking at the Mall, Book 2 The Water

Rabe Schuyler Johnson, a (young) man known by MANY NAMES, some of them even repeatable in polite company, was not enjoying being KIDNAPPED, no matter how much fun the kidnappers tried to make it out to be, yes, whether by train, plane, bus or runaway wheelchair, being kidnapped came down to the same, boring thing - you had to do what the KIDNAPPERS wanted and not what YOU wanted and that was a BIG HONKING MAJOR problem for The Rabester - losing your precious freedom was a life-changing event folks, and Rabe hadn't asked to have his life changed, thank you very much, he liked his life just the way it was, with him in the driver's seat, (well mostly) and the car going in the direction he wanted (well, some of the time), and his hands on the steering wheel (well, sometimes his hands were on the steering-wheel-of-his-very-own-life, right? - shoot! - at least a few minutes each day, huh? c'mon!), well.. anyways... them kidnappers of his DID NOT seem to understand the basic insupportability and the even more basic contradiction of being kidnapped when you are a Son of Freedom (and had a personal motto/mantra to prove it - It's All About Freedom, Baby!) - and the fact that they also seemed to be Ancient Greek Gods DID NOT seem to ameliorate factors to any extent on top of that, and when you added sarcastic, judge-y mooses, flash-mob Bollywood spectacles on the streets of major European capitals, sadistic militarily crazed bodybuilder flight attendants and bus drivers who speak in Zen riddles once minute and diss you (accurately) the next, well... when you add all that to the mix, the mix gets interesting, in a painful, sob-inducing sort of way, so, come on down and follow 'Ole Rabe here as Rabelicious attempts to navigate said dire straits and even attempts to enjoy them straits some too.