Back in early 2000 I had traveled out to Colorado to interview the
Gonzo journalist one of literature’s great moralists. I was in search of a quote. A small pearl of Gonzo wisdom, that received in person, would be of priceless value to me personally. It was early winter
evening and a contact informed me that he we was eating breakfast at a tavern a
few miles outside Aspen. It was snowing so hard it was nearly only accessible
by mule. The place resembled a barn and was lit with strings of Christmas lights.
Three men sat at a table in the back. One was Hunter, one was Raoul Duke, who
I’d run into once before in Los Angeles, and the other was a fat Samoan. Leaning
up against the wall was a cattle prod and a nickel-plated handgun rested on the
table beside what appeared to be a Bloody Mary. I took a deep breath and slowly
approached the table. I didn’t know whether this would be my last few moments
on earth, but I came all the way out and decided it was worth a shot. I
reached the table and the first to look up was the Samoan. He was wearing a
grey suit and had a crazed sharp look in his eye, like a recently used hatchet.
I barely made pleasantries before being assaulted by Duke after sticking out my
hand and saying, “Hi, good to see you again Raoul.” He moved like a leopard. I
remember next lying on my side on the floor and the smell of beer. It was cold
and wet from the snow. As I was being dragged out of the place I noticed a few
patrons sitting at the bar had turned around and were laughing. Some people clapped.
Hunter never looked up from his meal.
-Greg Evans (American Writer)
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