Don't be a punk. Do what you do in the privacy of your home, your buddies home, wherever, but don't take your comedy act on the road. It was much cooler when you were hanging around the keg telling jokes than cussing and carrying on in front of a polite family trying to go happily along their way while half in the bag. Associates just can't wait to get you stumbling out the door. Cool thing about it is this: associates have really nothing to lose because a pothead/drunk/friendly neighborhood junkie typically can't tell if they're getting bad service so you can really toy with them if it's a slow night (spit wads, "Kick Me" signs, chewed Milk Duds, steal their watch right off their wrist). But the last thing you'll get is help. At least the kind that you're in dire need of. For you, Mr./Miss public display of stupidity, you get a bird in the face while travelling 70 mph on a rollercoaster like our buddy Fabio. Even the world's most beautiful people have their ugly bouts with Mother Nature.