The most amazing part, in my mind, might be that we made it home alive--although the sex comes in close second. After a night of hardcore whiskey abuse, Katrina and I had somehow navigated my 2001 Chevy Trailblazer through thirty-three miles of pouring rain up the dirt-road to her house. Parked thirty feet from the door, we sat in silence, considering the storm.“Not worth it,” I muttered, nestling into the upholstery. She...