Then there was the summer of '69. I'm 9 now and all that school year, all I could think about was why we could not show each other our Private's. I co...ldn't ask my dad, he already yelled at me. Then a guy that lives next door called me over to his garage he said to show me a Toy Rocket. Hell at 9, sure why not. When I got over there I asked him where it was at? He was about 3 years older than me. He said, "It's over there in the corner" and shut the door behind him.I walked over and looked in. Looking up, I can see a second story catwalk which had been converted into a makeshift balcony with a set of stairs descending down and no railing to stop the clumps of pot smoking teens from jumping to their deaths. Amidst the gaggle of dancing patrons, I could see a mass of dusty warehouse boxes and old plywood lengths that had been fitted together to serve as a bar. Rusty tables and chairs were scattered around it, the type of stuff you might find in cheap yard sales and wonder if you would. I'll give Sam that, she was adventurous. For some reason that became clearer as the evening went on, the magazine article wasn't frightfully clear as to the details. It did, however, suggest that the enjoyment could be prolonged if the 'Mars' bar was placed in the fridge for a little while before hand. So we did. At this point for those who don't know about this article of confectionery its base is caramel, with a layer of nougat on top, the whole then being encased in a thick, hardened layer. My ladies all kept to juices, as did Esther and Marie. Yvette had a couple glasses of wine, but had switched to water later in the game and was still relatively sober. Of course the children had long since grown bored of their games, and had actually spent some time watching us play, with Marie and Esther happily hosting their children in their laps.Because of how long the game had lasted, Yvette suggested that it was time to head out after we finished. Everyone agreed that it had been great.