
Welcome to Cairo.
Vic Neverman is your guide to the streets, the hustlers and the cocktail lounges of the City of Gold.

It is the beginning of a holiday weekend. Summer-crazed families are en route from somewhere to elsewhere, only to become marooned here, at DFW, at the mercy of the non FAA-approved thunder gods. Day has become dark with storm. Children are huddled, frightened; parents are openly weeping. Kenneled pets are howling. The end of days is upon us, just as I am served a plate of potato skins. Yeah Connie, we’ll take another round.

At the End of the World, all are barefoot. The sand floor is midday hot at midnight. Tropical air is thick and combustible from the airborne sweat & rum swung from the bodies of dancers. The mood is frantic, panicked and carnal with a backdrop of impending doom. It is a ramshackle bar atop of a rocky outcrop surrounded by a swelling ocean during the twilight of man’s dominion over the earth. The end is near and there is a growing concern I will not live to see the climax.