Saint Drogo (2023) review

Many full moons ago, I traveled to Cape Cod to visit a friend. It was a friend, Connie, not a euphemism! And it was long before my cave-dwelling days . . .
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Yes, it was summer in Provincetown. We ate lobster rolls and drank beer. As we walked along the shore, we met some nice gentlemen relaxing on beach blankets. They invited us to share a few joints, and we laughed and basked in the sun all afternoon.

For a moment, I forgot about the years of waking up in the middle of the night, not knowing where I was or how I got there, and puking up the remains of raw pheasant from last night’s hunt (or, perhaps raw peasant!) until eventually I drifted away into a long sleep of vacation.

A few hours later, I stirred from my slumber and watched as my new friends splashed around in the ocean while I applied gentle aloe to my freshly sunpoisoned underbelly.

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