One Night Stand from Jack Tew on Vimeo.On the mortification meter, this is at least a nine.Do you know the acute shame of waking up in a bright room you’ve only seen in subdued lighting in the company of a boozy stranger who, just hours before, had your undivided attention? When you went home with him, it didn’t matter that his walls were plastered with posters of naked and semi-naked chicks or that he’s so proud of seeing Slipknot that he’s taped the ticket stub to their show to the wall above his bed.

Matador Ambassador Kitt Doucette shares some hard-won tips on surviving long-haul flights in the back of the bus.FLYING COACH is never glamorous. Unfortunately, the price tag on business or first-class seats is usually equal to my entire budget for three months in Indonesia. So coach it is. Struggling through more than a few brutal flights and getting stranded in airport hell on almost every continent has taught me a few things.

Anne Hoffman thinks back on the most formative music of her life.WASHINGTON POST music journalist Chris Richards recently wrote an article about a white rapper who sold out the new Fillmore concert hall in Silver Spring, Maryland. The rapper in question, Mac Miller, raps about bagels and cream cheese, about being bored and needing weed.

This week begins the biggest dam removal project in history, restoring over 70 miles of salmon spawning habitat and 4 miles of whitewater on Washington’s Elwha River.THE ELWHA WATERSHED is one of the most intense places I’ve ever been. A 20-minute ferry ride across Puget Sound from Seattle, and then just a 90-minute drive across the Olympic Peninsula you end up in temperate rainforests with massive firs and bigleaf maple.

A few spots around the world where you don’t have to worry about a deer coming through your windshield.I GREW UP IN Littleton, Colorado, a suburb of Denver that was forcefully inserted into miles of open prairie land back in the late ’80s. This is where the sprawling eastern plains meet the Hogbacks, the very beginnings of the Rocky Mountains.

My shoes scuff along the sandy track by my house. It occurs to me again. Sand beneath my feet. Grains of sand in an egg timer. The bottom half of my egg timer fills far more quickly than I remember when I was twenty.How often I forget that although my heart is young, my body isn’t. My weak ankle turns, reminding me how once I hopped, skipped and jumped through Calgary, Jaipur and downtown Aswan.