Prologue: The Question
I did expect to spend a Tuesday afternoon asking myself whether the most basic biological drive in the human animal—the one responsible for every single person reading this sentence being alive—qualifies as a luxury. A luxury is supposed to be a private jet. A handbag made from the skin of an animal that went extinct last Tuesday. A bottle of water that...
Act I: The Pragmatic Bro
I never worked the door at a college bar. I always got carded — even when I was older. Some nights, depending on what I wore, I got right in. Other nights, I stood outside waiting for friends who were "five minutes away" (forty-five minutes ago), passing the time, people-watching with a phone at 2% battery. Same movie played out night after night.
Guys lining up...
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