Today, the members of the fraternity had been told to meet in the park, where they'd see a lineup of brightly-colored
go-karts just waiting to be claimed by a dozen crazy frat-boys who might just be in need of some serious stupidity after a weekend of dealing with parents and assorted others.
Or, at least, that was the logic of the two leaders of the frat, who had also been fortunate enough to survive the weekend.
"Hey, guys," Warren said, smiling (a bit twitchily, all weekend-surviving aside) at the group, a helmet tucked under one arm. "Today, we figured we could use a bit of action and reckless abandon, so we arranged for some go-kart racing. We've roped off a portion of the park so that you don't have to worry about driving into any unsuspecting pedestrians, and there are helmets, because we're all teenage guys and we
know you're going to drive like idiots and probably try to take these things downhill or something, right?"
Look, it's what Warren would do. He wasn't going to judge.
“And we’re not allowed to tweak the cars,” Tony added sulkily. He could have made them so much better if given just five minutes at the engines. “When you’re not racing, let us know if you have any ideas for future meetings that don’t involve more pizza.”
That was always a given.
“So, have fun.”