We finally find out why Izzy risked life and limb at the jungle drug den. He’s in need of a man long on subterfuge but short on scruples. A man like Supermao.
Waiting for Supermao
Free Will is for Suckers (or “Stuck in Saugatuck”)
Destinations are not always intended. Vic finds himself on the wrong side of Lake Michigan, trying to make the most of an evening in port, only to find himself zigging when he’d rather be zagging.
Football is Life
Portland, OR “We completely undervalue curiosity” I was nearly shouting as I shouldered in through the door, talking back towards Roy who closely followed on the balls of his feet, his long arm reaching up to keep the door open long enough to enter. Inside the place was buzzing, and a chorus of voices poured…
Well Drinks of the Damned (or “The Defenestration of Venice”)
As Venice disappears beneath the lapping waters of the lagoon, Vic and his antagonizing drinking buddy, Kornberg, search the city for the beautiful Federica and/or her friend Francesca.
Riverbilly Bacchanalia at the Blue Crab Festival
It was one of the Blue Crab Festivals of yore when I met the girl not named Stacy. 38 Special was the featured performance. The crab harvest was promising. I was smoking Cuban cigars in a linen suit while riding the mechanical bull, El Toro Roboto, in the beer tent. After a fall into the limestone dirt, the voice of a spectator urged me to ride again. Now, I am not one easily swayed into acts of reckless wild abandon, but if it is going to happen, some strange dame is likely to blame. She called herself Stacy. And I called myself Bucky Swoon. I claimed to be a card-carrying member of the Tea Party who insisted on lifting the speed limit for jet-skis in manatee zones. God, Stacy said, you are fucking stupid. We spent the night on her front porch.
JackBeagles: 7.11.21. 9.00 a.m. Charlotte, N.C.
Après Moi, le Déluge: The Tao of Mississippi Jaq
Gulfport, Mississippi, where your ship comes in… Vic is a wayward pilgrim finding strange solace at the hotel lounge where he’s served drinks by Jaq, an anti-positivity guru set on mixing the meanest almond whiskey drink.
Folly at the Jolly Roger: The worst crapper in America?
Uncharted Dives kept a ranking of the worst bars to have to do your business. None of the contributors ever anticipated having to use a toilet on this unfortunate list. Until one fateful Christmas, when they did.
Surviving Valentine’s Day in Bachelorette City (During a Pandemic (in an Ice Storm))
A pandemic and ice storm is not enough to cancel bachelorette parties in Nashville on Valentine’s Day. Hurricane Survivalist, Cyrus Lee Hancock, and Rescue Diver, Vic Neverman, keep watch for damsels in distress.
Amazon River Blues: Blessed Damnation
Karma Café is a Euro-trash hippie joint with hypnotic cocktails, framed portraits of large-breasted mermaids with anaconda tails, a television airing delayed soccer matches, ceiling fans circulating the sweet scent of sweat-opium-patchouli and a food menu catering to those on the Ayahuasca diet. Of their cocktails, I recommend Peru’s national drink, the Pisco Sour.
Uncharted Dives 