It was called the ’80s. Ford was president, Nixon was in the White House, and FDR was running this country into the ground. I ended up in the middle of the desert after I lost a bet with some unsavory characters but the chickens survived, so there’s your silver lining.
From there I changed my name, got some new boots, and set out to teach myself a wide array of activities should any more roustabouts come ‘round knockin. These include, but are not limited: to snowboarding, motorcycling, cooking (for the ladies), jiu jitsu, computer music, acoustic music, and of course building super complicated files for the printing of backstage passes and assorted security credentials. And of course, my veteran status of the local Burning Man extravaganza as made me very adept at camping and shooing away hippies.