"OH FUCK! I'M SHOT!" Not the four words you want to hear from your best friend. Especially when I was sitting directly behind him in the car. The night in Omaha was doomed from the start. The $500 party bus we rented was over an hour and a half late (1st sign). We headed off after loading up the huge bar loacted in the back of the bus with $200 dollars in liquor, beer, pop and ice. The bus only stopped at two bars, the 4 hours went by pretty fast. Alot of drinking takes place at this point in time. At 2:30 a.m. we headed off on a 10 minute drive to my friends house, at which we were planning on crashing. Kiko, my best friend, was riding shotgun-Jon, another close friend, was driving-Brandon, yet another, was sitting backseat driver side-I was sitting behind Kiko. Kiko and Brandon were arguing, or I should say screaming at each other from the time we got off the bus. When a car full of young punk white kids pulled up next to us throwing up their hands, Brandon snapped. ...