This is where hurricanes were sold.  Pan and I both thought we’d have one, but Pan had got lost in the crowd or might have gotten his hurricane and gone back outside to take pictures.  I waited for a long time and told the bar man what I wanted.  He either didn’t hear or didn’t want to hear.  I said it louder.  He looked down and wrote something, then looked at someone else.  I didn’t want anything so much as something to do, so I turned around and looked at the crowd.

A person was lying on the floor.  I hadn’t heard him fall, if he had fallen rather than being dragged inside.  I looked around.  There were no familiar faces in there.  Someone poured a bit of his hurricane on the man, and then someone else did too.  They pulled him to a corner of the bar.  “Where are his friends?” I heard a girl say.

There was a policeman on a horse in the entryway.  He got off the horse and dragged the man outside.

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