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35

By the time the buses showed up an hour and a half later the camp was alive. I had turned my car on, with doors hanging open, car radio on blaring country music and the fire blazing gently while I lay in the hammock next to the fire, holding my guitar and a beer down on the grass next to me. The enormous ice bucket was standing next to my car, beers cooling in the ice. My friends sat back in their camping chairs we had talked Steven into loaning us.

“Here they come.” I said miserably when we heard the buses gently plodding in.

We stayed

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