"Two days later, after one of my best days skiing ever—in three feet of powder at Wolf Creek—Mark and I drove down into Alamosa in my fully laden sports coupe to get a motel room and recuperate from our binge of snow recreation."
"I doubt any of them had ever met a married colleague with red-blasted “all-nighter” eyes, trailing the odor of alcohol and sex as he exited a motel room with a smiling young woman."
"And sometime later I sat on the floor in a urinous Oakland motel room and tried to cry."