25. Being introduced, in the dim private lounge of a Lower-East-Side nightclub, to an Armani-clad, amply scarred and bejeweled man who, I knew the second his callused hand enveloped mine, the second the fat Bronx bruiser behind him stepped forward to inspect my jacket for bulges, was one of those individuals one should take great pains to keep the fuck out of one’s life.
26. A scary moment in a New Orleans bar when a drunk in a Harley jacket tried to stick what I think was a steak knife in me because I’d told him he’d have to blow me for an autograph.
27. A guy I’d occasionally smoked weed with in high school calling me in a New Haven hotel room, taking thirty minutes to chat me up before asking, inevitably, if he could borrow four thousand dollars.
