Risk/Reward: 2 Stories About Shady People in Shady Places
I would not label myself a risk-taker. My philosophy is if there’s a chance an activity will kill me, I’m out. No sky diving, no bungee jumping, no hiking on the edge of a cliff just to see a nesting bird of prey I didn’t know existed. I’m a bit of a wimp but I also don’t trust many people. If I’m traveling and I don’t know you I assume you are trying to take my credit card or kidney. Though this paranoia might seem excessive, it is rooted in real life experience. Picture this: It’s 1998, NEXT has created a pop R and B song about boners on the dance floor and Backstreet was definitely back. I was 19, sitting on a Bourbon St curb with my friend Ryan. We were watching the worst tourists stumble in and out of bars we were glad we were too young to enter. Packs of middle-aged white women in day-glo tops and white capris flirted with uninterested men. Clusters of cowboys and college bros implored and begged for anyone, anyone at all to please show them their tits. It seemed lik