Mixologist Milos Balac is still sick from those Four Lokos ... and a cold.

9 p.m. Rainy season. Friday night. I was standing in the open air hallway when a mo-ped drove in with a bundle of cloth thrown over the driver’s lap. He jumped off the bike yelling, “Dogo toro” (doctor in the local language). Within the swaddle, lay a two-year-old girl drenched in sweat, barely breathing audibly. We placed her in a bed and I immediately examined her for severe malaria.