My Weekend In America's So-Called 'Rape Capital'

My Weekend In America’s So-Called ‘Rape Capital’

My Weekend In America's So-Called 'Rape Capital'"It's the altitude," the sweaty, red-cheeked fraternity brother explains. It is my first night in Missoula, Montana, and I am sitting on a stool at Stockman's Bar, watching girls in rhinestoned crop tops and boys in baggy jeans grind up on each other, pound tequila shots, and prowl around before pairing off and stumbling home before last call. Mike*, my traveling companion, is waiting outside for me with a switchblade; he can't come into Stockman's, which he and his friends call "Cockman's," since he is only 20 years old and forgot his fake I.D., but he told me it wasn't exactly safe to go there by myself. Mike, by the way, used to be what he tactfully calls a "supplier" to college kids, and he left Missoula a few months ago because he was being followed around by unmarked cars and couldn't stop shooting up heroin. So when Mike tells me to be wary of Stockman's, I listen. More »

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