Again in L.A., again at the Continental Hotel.. full of pills and club sandwiches and Old Crow and now a fifth of Lois Martini Barbera, looking down from the eleventh floor balcony at a police ambulance screaming down toward the Whiskey-a-Go-Go on the Strip,
where I used to sit in the afternoon and talk with off-duty hookers.. and while I was standing there, watching four flower children in bell-bottom pants, two couples, hitch-hiking toward Holly-wood proper, a mile
or so up the road... they noticed me looking down and waved. I waved, and moments later, after pointing me out to each other, they hoisted the "V" signal - and I returned that. And one of them yelled, "What are you doing up there?' And I said, "I'm writing about all you freaks down there on the street."
Hunter S. Thompson, Screwjack