…and he said, “You pour that out, and you’re going home.” If you weren’t there to plug in your guitar, play hard, and drink hard then you needn’t be there. If you couldn’t handle your alcohol then don’t bother showing up. That kind of shit was for the Brown students who drank at the local watering holes. This was the real deal. Anyone who wanted to leave before sunrise wasn’t a real friend in his eyes. Play until your fingers bleed, snort until your nose bleeds, and puke your guts out from mixing alcohol with all of that. Winter was extraordinarily cold and long this year.  That just meant more months of playtime for Ryan. He was a floater and a bit of a squatter who made his money during the summer seasons doing construction. The colder months were a time for him to buckle down on his song writing and heavily indulge in alcoholic drinking and excessive drug use. If you couldn’t partake or accept it then you could expect a good talking to or an ass kicking from Ryan. It was his way or the fucking high way. If you chose to stick around you could count on him swiping cash from your wallet while you were in the bathroom snorting coke with the neighbor girl that he invited over for the sole purpose of…….