One of my rules for picking a motel is that it’s walking distance to a restaurant and bar so I could have a drink and leave the car behind. Last night at the best Mexican restaurant in walking distance, I was sitting next to a 21-year-old drunk kid. In the hour I sat there he drank a pitcher of beer, then a vodka on the rocks, then a 32 ounce beer and he proudly told me he had a couple of vodkas before I arrived.

Quickly I found out that recently he had been arrested for drinking while driving, carrying a concealed weapon and being belligerent to – he pointed to the bartender and ask me what you call those type of people (bartenders?) – Mexicans.

He asked me the usual where I’m from and what I’m doing. Then he got really excited and wanted to see my car and camping equipment and wanted to take a ride. I told him that I can’t because I’ve been drinking. He said no problem, “I’ll drive!”