From the May 2011 Grapevine magazine
Criss-crossing the 150-degree Mojave can be hellish if you’re hungover
"'O-beer-thirty' came every afternoon and I typically didn’t taper off until the wee-wee-hours of the morning."
For the past twenty years (fifteen drunk, five sober), my workplace has been the Mojave Desert. Unbelievably, I used to walk around under a blazing, 115-degree sun, enduring killer hangovers. I spent many a night in bars, motels, and campsites, always working toward tomorrow’s hangover. I’ve frequented bars in every town from Lancaster to Landers, Barstow to Banning, Palmdale to Palm Springs and from Needles to Neenach.
I usually didn’t drink in the morning or during the day, but “O-beer-thirty” came every afternoon and I typically didn’t taper off...
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