In a seedy Oklahoma motel room, a lonely waitress begins an unexpected love affair with a young drifter. And then they see the first bugs… Tracy Letts’s mind-bending cult classic—a luridly funny tale of love, paranoia and government conspiracy—roars back to Chicago for its Steppenwolf debut.
One time I was driving to work on a hot summer morning. Just like today. Hung over pretty bad and nursing a pint of rum. I was in complete agony, had a fiery headache, and starting to sweat because my truck didn’t have air conditioning. Taking shots now and then while auto-piloting the blue Ranger along the river. I needed just enough liquor to bring my headache down to a manageable level so I could make it through until lunch.
This story begins with a Jim Beam, a Coke chaser, and a drum machine. Imagine if you will…a Jamaican, new wave dance-off in the heart of Ottumwa, Iowa. A crowd of maybe 10 and I, your host, fresh from a reggae retreat on the humid beaches of Costa Rica…
No, it wasn’t a Jim Beam. If memory serves (and it usually does) that night was the only time I willingly drank Jack Daniels. Of course, I was in pursuit of a lass and unintimidated by the Wapello dragons not uncommon to that region during those cold, wintery months.
Looking at your photos I realize that you are a wealthy man and it could all be taken away with one drink. Congratulations on a new and better life. (The easier softer way. )
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