lphonse Dotson and I are sitting in the backseat of a car traveling out of New York City. We’re both big guys, though I haven’t used my size for much other than looking over people’s heads at concerts. Alphonse, on the other hand, used his to play tackle for the Oakland Raiders. And while I’ve gotten soft around the middle, Alphonse is still strong as an ox even though it’s thirty-five years since he left football. We are joking, laughing, hitting each other, leaning in and whispering dirty jokes. We’re talking mostly about the arts and football, but it is wine that’s brought us together.