When you are drunk in Myrtle Beach there is not much better than Outback Steakhouse. We had been waiting for ages, it was impossible to tell how long. Outside there were places to sit. Children were running in the parking lot, examining bits of gravel. I don’t know who had our vibrator, but I thought it must be someone responsible.

I asked Andy to examine the humidor. But he returned shortly and informed that it had nothing acceptable. To remedy this embarrassment it was necessary for someone, or two people, to go and find tobacco.

That is how we came to the box of Macanudos. I asked the girl if she wanted one. She did and we went up the rickety staircase to the room in which they were held. I looked down through the window at the rest of the party. Two new guests had arrived, I had missed them; I watched them walk back across the gravel to where the cars were parked.

There were glass shards in the hot tub, so there was a fight, but I missed it; I had all these Macanudos now and people needed to smoke them. A boy may have needed stitches. I hope he got them. Most important was for people to smoke my fat cigars. We were educated. Congratulations.

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