'"I'm a guest," I reply to the hooded guy with the gun, still blinking at this nightmare, profoundly aware of my skinny ass in flip-flops and boxer shorts. Fffft. I hear a faint noise and then the gunman in front of me releases my T-shirt. He is standing there, an arrow stuck into his skull... I had arrived in Negril eight days earlier for the Red Bull Fat Tire Festival. My second trip to an island I barely knew. In no time I plugged into the vibe, the local culture...' More
