Butt Hurt in the Catskills
Due to peer pressure, I’ve engaged in behaviour antithetical to every molecule in my being, said activities causing great anxiety, more than once. North of the Arctic Circle in Sweden, one of the longest and highest chair lifts in the world whisked me to a wind-whipped restaurant placed for some Goddamn reason on a remote mountain top. Upon landing, my hands shook so badly, I almost couldn’t cut my fresh-caught char. A Coney Island rollercoaster had the same effect, as did a ride in a private jet in Indiana when my friend, the pilot, was Not-Ready-For-Primetime. The most memorable such event occurred in the Catskill Mountains of upstate New York, where I did something I’m not proud of.