Frisked and Manhandled in Amarillo Texas



I'm afraid you must be searched. We believe you may have explosives in your anus.


The curbside of an empty street in Amarillo, Texas.


Sometime shortly after midnight on a bitterly cold January morning many years ago.


Alan: Primary driver of the car, completely lacking in the nuances of Texas traffic laws, and alarmingly stupid.

Lance: Front seat passenger, map reader and navigator, purveyor of navigational pearls of wisdom such as:

  • “That’s the exit we want…way back there.”
  • “Last chance gas? I can find cheaper gas somewhere in the vast empty desert in between Las Vegas and Arizona.”
  • “Don’t worry, we can drive for miles on empty; long before we run out of gas and are cannibalized by a family of desert dwelling inbreds.”

Matt: Backseat passenger, frustrated driver with serious blood pressure issues (issues exacerbated by questionable passenger-side navigation).

Me: Backseat passenger, provider of sarcasm, semi-blind (evidently thirty miles is “way too far to go back” to retrieve a pair of glasses from a motel room in Flagstaff…

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