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The river behind our hotel suite. Perfect for helping you fall asleep. And within peeing distance of the balcony.
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Prarie dogs pretty much run the joint. Almost flattened this guy with the rental car.
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We rock-climbed some dangerous terrain and got wet and muddy getting around this frigid lake. But the toughest part for me was not having cell-phone service.
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A cigarette vending machine in a bar is both a throwback, and a way to commit slow suicide for a mere seven bucks (Meanwhile, for only a buck more, you can
put a helmet on that soldier in Cannes.)
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The former whorehouse where my friends Mark and Michelle treated us to dinner. These days, the crabs are stuffed into herb-encrusted trout.
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Me, doing Q&A after the screening of my film. Put a nickel in me and I’ll run for hours. But all jesting aside, the crowd was super receptive, seemed to really love the film and made my job a cinch by asking very intelligent questions. Plus they gave me the opportunity to close with a rousing "We love you, Breckenridge!"