After another night of comparatively light drinking (compared to Andre the Giant) you shamble down the street from your bar certain you can make the half mile walk home.
In your blurry peripheral vision you catch a swath of red cutting through the deep purple of the sky and the black of the darkness-soaked trees. You have a red roof on your house, you think. This must be the place.
The carport door seems to be in a different place and it looks like your carport has been repossessed, but you're tired and you'll deal with that in the morning. Your key isn't working in the door, though, so you stand back and scratch your head until you can figure this out.
You approach the door for a fresh try with the key when a white blob on the door glass comes into focus as an open palmed hand with a tattoo that says WARNING and something about security.
Your natural instinct takes over and you high-five the hand as hard as you can. The sound of breaking glass startles you less than the high pitched whine that blared from inside the house.
That guy is a bit of a pussy, you think, jeez, can't even take a high five.
You fumble with the keys unsuccessfully for a few more moments before the police arrive.
The officer steps out of his car to see you running towards him, excited to see a professional in uniform here to help you with your lock. As you walk toward him at a dead sprint, he holds up his hand, palm towards you, and shouts orders for you to stop.
You do not stop and, seeing again an inviting palm, raise your own and high-five the cop at full speed. Your drunken balance cannot withstand the impact, and you tumble to the floor.
The cop thinks you were trying to attack you and mounts you, then begins to use his fists to stop your obvious resistance.
You raise your fist in response to his obvious attempt to fist-bump you, but the cop misses his mark and hits you in the face instead.
You make sure to forgive him in the booking room.