Rush down alleys, stone walls fly past, impact bullet punched deep into fatty liver narrow young man drops gun, dogma, life itself to steal is repurposing, liberating sometimes defensible to kill is squandering everything he had trickles down filthy gutters wasted. We never slowed down.
Beaver Creek
They don’t roll up the sidewalks at 11 p.m. in Beaver Creek, Yukon, only because there are, in fact, no sidewalks to roll. We hit the border crossing from Alaska’s Glenn Highway at about 8:30, with magic light firing the golden leaves of aspens and the temperature reading about 10 degrees C (50 degrees F). I’d … [more]
Buy me dinner first?
The first noticeable difference between flying into SeaTac, an airport surrounded by NW waters, and Anchorage is the proximity of deep, green trees to the airport. The next is the profusion of small aircraft on the field, not a known feature of metropolitan airports in CONUS. The first noticeable thing about Anchorage itself is … [more]
Sky liar
The wind was up, rain interspersed with sunshine. One of us was being a gentleman about it, and I’m sad to report it wasn’t me. “I dunno if you want to go up in this,” Justin said politely. “Looks like we’re off for today. I don’t want anyone getting sick.” “I don’t get airsick.” “Well…” … [more]
Binned
Three days after I de-planed at SeaTac and rode home to peel off sticky, faded desert camo for the last time, I was dispatched by my exotically sexy wife to attend to her mother in the mental ward. In Texas. With barely a hug and certainly no kisses under our belts, it seemed early in … [more]