Fear and Loathing in Western New York We were somewhere around Batavia on the edge of the turf farms when the wings began to kick in. And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge Bills fans, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was stopped at a rest stop on the Thruway to Western New York. And a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?” Then it was quiet again. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring Molson on his chest. “Never mind,” I said. “It’s your turn to drive.” I hit the brakes and aimed the family sized cross over utility vehicle toward the shoulder of the highway. No point mentioning those Bills fans, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough. It was almost noon, and we still had more than 100 miles to go. They would be tough miles if we were going to find a place to watch the game. We brought our own vegetables. My editor had also gi