The Great East Coast Road Trip of 2008

Sat - 8:00 PM: Our trip, alas, has concluded. Thursday we completed a marathon drive from Savannah all the way back to Connecticut. Nine hundred plus miles, and all of it -- the whole way up the coast -- in strong, gusting winds. Our Prius handled it all beautifully, however, just as it had handled the previous 2600 miles. Great road-trip car. Comfortably and competently hauled us all the way to Key West and back along with 14 days worth of clothes and other crap and we averaged around 48 MPG the whole way. We loves us our Prius.


Our last day in Savannah was wonderful. The first order of business was to drive out to Bonaventure Cemetery on the outskirts of town. This cemetery was the setting for the "bird girl" statue picture that graces the cover of Midnight In The Garden of Good And Evil. The statue is no longer there, but the place itself is well worth the visit. For a final resting place, you couldn't ask for anything more beautiful. Live Oaks dripping with Spanish moss, a variety of palms and flowering bushes of all sorts mixed in around them; Cool breezes coming in off of the Wilmington River; Old, ornate, grave markers in endless varieties. You could spend a whole day wandering this place and not get bored.



Tracy had just finished reading Midnight a few days before we arrived in Savannah. In one chapter, the author tells of visiting the grave of Savannah-born poet Conrad Aiken. According to local lore, Aiken, whose grave marker is a bench adjacent to the larger headstone of his parents, had asked that people remember him by coming out to his grave and having a drink. Having stopped at a local package store* on the way to procure ingredients, Tracy made us two Bloody Mary's. We sat on Conrad's bench, sipping them and taking in the beautiful scenery and just, well, having a Moment. When I looked down and saw the inscription on the bench that said "Give My Love To The World" I couldn't help myself; I teared up. What a wonderful sentiment to leave behind. What a mature and graceful way to make peace with death and gently remind the living of what they've got.

(*Attached to the register at this particular liquor store was a sign that said "We do not accept gold coins" - referring to Sacagawea dollar. Totally nonplussed, we asked the guy ringing us out why that was. He paused awkwardly and said "Um, it's because they don't say 'In God We Trust' on them." I can only imagine what was going through his head as these two Yankees stared at him in obvious disbelief. After a quick internal debate over whether to continue with our transaction, I said "Well that's... interesting." We bought our Bloody Mary mix and moved quickly along.)



Our next stop was the Mercer Williams House. This humble abode (10,000 sqft.) was, for decades, the home of Jim Williams, one of Savannah's most colorful inhabitants and a key character in The Book (that's what a good many Savannahians refer to Midnight as, given that it boosted their city's profile and tourism market by an order of magnitude almost overnight). The house is gorgeous, but unfortunately we can't show you any of the interior as cameras are banned on the tour. Williams, who started his own business as an antiques dealer at the ripe old age of ten, made his living (and a comfortable fortune) restoring houses in Savannah's historic district. The first floor rooms of his former home remain a tribute to his far-ranging tastes and iconoclast personality. It was well worth putting up with the irritable tour guide, camera ban, lack of beverages, and stuffy gift shop/waiting area to see the way he lived.



We wrapped up the day with dinner at the Moon River Brewing brewpub and restaurant on Bay Street. Great beer, cheap dinner, put us in a good way, but the real highlight of the evening was our next stop. We'd read about Molly McPherson's in one of the hotel lobby magazines, and the bit that jumped out was their SEVENTY SINGLE MALT SCOTCH VARIETIES. Oh, yes, this was where we'd wrap up our stay in this great little drinking town. Stomachs full, we wandered over to Molly's and ordered a couple of drams of Scotch. Then I got the flight of malts pictured here. Yeah, that's right: A flight of Scotch. I was in heaven. Best of the bunch was the Aberlour a'bunadh, an intensely rich, sweet & smoky distillation of pure goodness. Of course, before leaving I also had to get the "got scotch?" t-shirt they had on offer, my fifth and last t-shirt purchase of our trip.


So that's that. Gotta say, those thirteen days provided every ounce of the road trip adventure that I'd been expecting. Like our Ireland trip, it was so packed with details that I'll be mentally digesting it and reliving it for some time. Thanks for reading, and if you're a traveller looking for tips on any of the places we visited, drop me a line.

Wed - 8:45 AM: Last day in Savannah and we've got quite a bit planned, including visiting the Mercer House and Bonaventure Cemetery. Hope my feet can make it through in one piece...


Tue - 9:30 AM: ca·rouse [kuh-rouz] verb, -roused, -rous·ing
1. to engage in a drunken revel: "They caroused all night."
2. to drink deeply and frequently.

The Howards and Toasts caroused the shit out of Savannah last night. Oh, yessir we did.

Aspirin would be nice right now... Ah. Thanks, Hon.


Mon - 8:30 AM: Happy St. Patrick's Day! We're off to Savannah today, probably with a quick stop at the Kennedy Space Center on the way. Tonight, we'll hoist a few with Chris and Michelline. The game was OK yesterday, although we absolutely baked our asses off in the new right-field deck. Much Solarcaine™ has been dispensed. Short on time this morning, so that's all for now.

Sun - 11:00 AM: Heading out to our second game of the weekend versus the Indians today. Hoping the Yanks get the better of this one. Oh, and hey, ever wonder what happens when you're wearing shorts and you apply sunblock to your lower legs while standing up and then you spend more than four hours sitting? This is what happens.

Sun - 10:45 AM: Had a wonderful dinner with the Litbrit clan last night at a little Italian restaurant in the Ybor (pronounced "ee-bore") section of Tampa. I had an entrée called "Crazy Chicken" which was crazy good, and the appetizers that Mr. Litbrit ordered for the table were absolutely sublime - mushrooms, roasted red peppers, garlic, artichokes, prosciutto, tomato and just oh my were we in heaven. The restaurant is called the Laughing Cat, and if you find yourself in Tampa you absolutely need to slot them into your schedule, preferably for late dinner.


Sat - 5:30 PM: Today we saw the first of our two Spring Training games at Legends Field. Our seats were about fifteen feet behind the Yankee Dugout and right around first base. I paid $40 apiece for them, which is hilarious considering that everything in the surrounding sections (and everything else in our section) was going for $120 a seat and up. Just got a lucky roll of the StubHub dice, I guess.



We got to the park around 10:20 in the morning. Pitchers were practicing in the pen just on the far side of the pedestrian bridge, and some players were over by the fence on the practice field signing autographs. Here's Phil Franchise, putting his mark on some balls that will no doubt grace the display cases of starry-eyed fans for years to come. Or catch a nice price on eBay.



Before entering the stadium for the game, we stopped by the store. There was an amazing array of Yankee paraphernalia. I picked up a white "Spring Training" cap and a t-shirt, Tracy got a hat for herself and a tank-top for her sister, and we found this wonderful hat for Angelos.



Speaking of the Captain...



Ian Kennedy got the start against the Tampa Bay Wanna-Be Tough-Guy Hosebags. Didn't go so well for Ian, as he gave up two runs over three innings, both second-inning homers. Mariano Rivera came out to pitch the fourth, which threw Tracy and I for a loop. We asked a couple of the folks sitting around us, and they said it was standard operating procedure for Spring Training.

We took off right after the second seventh inning stretch. At that point, there was nobody we recognized left in the game (today's was a split squad game so we only had a handful of starters and "name" prospects to begin with) and we were sunburnt and exhausted. Tomorrow, more sunblock, and better pre-game hydration are called for.



When we got back to the car, some enterprising soul had left this card tucked under our windshield.



Sat - 4:30 PM: Wait, before getting to today's activities, more Key West pics. First, here's Tracy sitting astride her Honda Metropolitan scooter with the pink flower-patterned front. It was her birthday, dammit, and if she wanted a flowery scooter she was getting a flowery scooter.



Here I am scooting down Duval Street while smoking a stogie. I wanted so badly to pull up next to one of the many bad-ass dudes cruising around on their Harleys, give them the smart-eye, and say "You want some of this? Do ya?" Luckily, my self-preservation instincts remained intact long enough to get me home in one piece.


Sat - 9:30 AM: Good morning from Tampa! Sorry for going dark yesterday, but we had an incredibly busy schedule. Woke up in Key West, packed the car and returned our scooters, then we drove back up the keys and headed across "Alligator Alley". Didn't see any alligators or much of anything else. In fact, I'd say that stretch of highway is about the most boring I've ever driven. Flat, perfectly straight, and surrounded by the gigantic swamp/marsh of the Everglades which, while no doubt teeming with life, looks pretty much featureless from the car.

Stopped in to visit a fraternity brother of mine who lives in a "golf community" in Estero. I'd never heard of golf communities -- basically gated developments that are built around golf courses -- but apparently they're big down here. Had a couple of beers at his place and caught up on some news, then headed up to Palmetto where we had dinner with an old friend of Tracy's and her husband on their 30' sailboat. Didn't check into our hotel in Tampa until well after 11:00 PM, and by the time we did our asses were dragging.

This morning, however, finds us all rested up and ready to go watch some baseball. The Yanks take on the Devil Rays this afternoon (no, I'm not dropping "Devil", fuck them) and given this week's events between the two teams, it might get interesting. Oh, and regarding that: Fridge is right and the rest of you are wrong. That is all.


Thu - 6:30 PM: No pictures from today (yet) because my camera battery died. So instead, I give you a few extra pictures from yesterday. Here's Tracy and I at the southernmost point in the continental United States. Yeeeeaaaahhhhh, Buuuooooyyyy!!!



This, in case you were wondering (and you know you were) is what butterfly sex looks like. Tracy and I went to the Key West Butterfly Conservatory yesterday, and when I saw these two with their asses glued together, I had a hunch they were making some baby butterflies. I then confirmed this with one of the staff members. Huh huh. I said "staff" and "members" in a post about butterfly sex. I rule...



Key West, like all tourist hot spots, has a ton of t-shirt shops. And I, as an inveterate t-shirt-o-phile, love to check them out, because that shit often cracks me up. This shirt is hands-down the funniest I've seen so far. Although I'm a little troubled that they put it on an African-American-looking mannequin, since we all know meth is the fun and cool sport of disaffected white suburban youth.


Thu - 3:00 PM: I love scooters. Jesus, I really, really love scooters. We need to buy scooters.


Thu - 11:35 AM: I rock. Seriously, I rock like a fuckin' hurricane.



Thu - 11:30 AM: Good morning, peeps! OK, first thing's first: Although she tried her best to hide behind this copy of the Miami Herald, there was no mistaking the secret identity of... Birthday Girl! That's right, today, March 13th, 2008, Tracy turns forty three years old. And don't lie: She doesn't look a day over thirty. So raise a glass to my love today, in honor of her efforts over the course of 4.3 decades to make this world a prettier, funnier, and better place. Cheers, wife!



The cocks were out at Blue Heaven this morning. This fella came over to our table and gave us a quizzical stare. One thing I find fascinating about roosters is their comb. It's made of this fleshy material that looks like used chewing gum. I want to touch one, but I'm afraid the bird would forcefully object.



And this is what a rooster sounds like. See? There's no hard "K" sound at all. It's like "EUUR EUR EEEUUUURRRRRRRR, EEUUURRRR!" However you spell it, though, it's endearing. We'd love to get a few roosters for our yard back in the Shire. Our neighbors, however, probably wouldn't be so high on the idea.

(Update: YouTube is taking forever to do whatever it does with videos after you upload them, so I'll have the embed for this as soon as possible.)



Here's Tracy asking one of Caya Hueso's finest for directions to the nearest scooter rental facility. We'd been planning on renting scooters all along, but now it's become a necessity as my feet are killing me. I need to see my doctor about this. My feet are sore all the fucking time now, and it's really aggravating. I think something's wrong with my arches or some such shite. But I digress. Oh, and note the slogan on the fender. Nice.



Wed - 12:35 PM: Breakfast places do not get better than Blue Heaven. They just don't. If I had the ability to teleport, I would eat breakfast here every single morning of my life. First off, they serve a Bloody Mary that is absolutely sublime in its awesome tastiness. That's for starters. (And finishers, actually; I usually have two.) Second, the food is delicious. This morning, Tracy had Lobster Benedict and I had a shrimp and mushroom omelet, both of which were crazy good. Third? Well third is the place itself, which has to be experienced to be understood. We eat out in the back, where tables are strewn about on the stone patio and the surrounding mulchy area. Soft island music plays in the background, and all around roosters and chickens and their chicks roam the grounds, walking under the tables and chairs and checking everyone out. Frequently, one of the roosters lets out a loud cock-a-doodle-do, only it doesn't actually sound like that. I'll try to capture one on video tomorrow morning so you can hear the sound. It's wonderful. So anyhow, if you find yourself in Key West looking for breakfast, I implore you to check out Blue Heaven. You will thank me.



Oh, pool, how do I love thee? Let me count the laps. I love the cool warmth of your waters. I love the swimming under the surface from end to end. I love the doing of handstands and the flowing of water up my nose. I love the sting of chlorine in my eyes. I even love the inadvertent bonking of the head on thy lip as I surface in an unexpected spot. I love you, pool. You are preferable to so many things, you have no idea.



Tue - 11:35 PM: Ah, yes. This is how I want to retire. A little home down in Key West. Sitting on my porch, sipping whisky (in this case, Knob Creek bourbon) and smoking a stogie This is the life. It don't get much better.

It's beautiful down here. It's about 75° out, the air is balmy, all the crackly winter skin is melting off of us. We had a wonderful dinner tonight at Red Fish, Blue Fish, sitting in the open air sucking down margaritas and taking in the sights and sounds. It's a bit different from last year, in that there's a sizable Spring Break contingent. On the one hand, this is bad, because of the roving packs of unpaired college-aged males obnoxiously beating their chests for attention (amazing how egregious that behavior looks from the outside 20 years on). But on the other hand, there are equally as many roving packs of college-aged females and it would appear that skimpy dresses are in this year. So, you know, that's nice.



Here's Tracy, sitting on our lovely porch about half an hour ago. She's in bed now. Seems a mojito, a margarita, and a screwdriver pushed her beyond her functional drinking limit this evening. God, and she's been with me for how long??? Ah well, perhaps a good night's sleep will help her ease into the Conch Republic lifestyle a bit more tomorrow.



This is me in the "Smallest Bar In Key West". Every time I come down here, I make it a point to drop in this place. It's actually an alleyway with an awning over it. The bartenders are unfailingly friendly, however, and the close confines mean you pretty much always make some new friends.



Stopped to take a picture of the famous Seven Mile Bridge on our way down the Overseas Highway. If you've never driven this route, it's something else. One lane most of the way, with speed limits that range from 35 MPH all the way up to a blistering 55 MPH, this is a 100-mile journey that forces you to get your mellow on before arriving in paradise. Pretty as hell, though, and it's certainly a unique trip.



Lastly, I had to share this pic. You can't see it here, but El Diablo is driving behind a pair of Q-Tips who were entering Florida's Turnpike at a leisurely 30 MPH. You should have seen how this dude was chomping at the bit. Oh, and yeah: While we didn't encounter a single asshole driver from Delaware all the way down through the Carolinas, Georgia, and North Florida, we ran into enough vagina cleaners in the thirty miles surrounding Miami to make up for it in spades. Whole lotta dick-swingin' retards out on the roads down there. Almost felt like the northeast...


Wed - 7:10 PM: Key West!!! Just settled in to our room. You know, the one with the private porch ten feet from Whitehead Street directly across from Hemingway House and a block from Duval? That room. Oh, we are happy people. And now, we are heading out with the intention of raising our Blood Alcohol Levels considerably.

Tue - 8:25 AM: Must report on a new discovery: The last three hotels we've stayed at have had these cool shower curtain rods that bow outward horizontally at the top. This affords the shower occupant considerably more elbow room and tends to prevent the curtain from wafting inwards due to steam. Excellent invention. I'm thinking I need to get one for home.

Tue - 7:55 AM: Sitting in our room at the Best Western Spanish Quarter in St. Augustine (no internet access, so this update will be delayed) and I'm watching CNN's report on the Elliott Spitzer prostitution scandal. First heard about this on NPR on the drive down yesterday, and my reaction was the same as always: Why is it so difficult for men in power to keep from sticking their dicks where they don't belong? I don't get it.

Hung out with the Howards last night, as planned. Had dinner at a seafood place next door to the hotel, where I was introduced to a tasty new hot pepper sauce based on the datil pepper, a local delicacy. We talked about a variety of subjects, including politics, sports, movies, and television. Why, if one were to close ones eyes, one would have thought one was back in the TwoGlasses comments section...

After dinner, the nine of us (Tracy and myself, John and Keri and their youngest son, Jason, Chris and Michelline and their two daughters, Libby and Tori) wandered the old town for an hour or so. It was totally mellow. Tracy and Keri discovered a shared love of cosmetic products, leading to a long and detailed discourse on the subject outside an ice cream shop where Chris was procuring cones for the young ones. While they chatted about expensive creams and potions, the boys (and Michelline) looked on in a state of what might be called bemusement mixed with disinterest. Later, on the walk back towards the hotel, we saw a palmetto bug (cough-cockroach-cough) skittering down the street. Michelline stepped on it. A good time was had by all. Except the roach. (Stupidly, I left my camera in the room, but Chris took a few pictures, so hopefully he can post them.)

Today, we've got a nine-hour drive to Key West, so it's into the shower for me and then we've got to hit the road. We'll be settling in for three nights on our arrival, so I'll be able to catch up a bit more.

Mon - 12:20 PM: You know, this wi-fi thing is pretty cool. I'm starting to think it might catch on. Right now we're sitting in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly grocery store in James Island, S.C.. Sadly, nobody here seems to have any idea who Stephen Colbert is. All was not entirely lost, however, as Tracy was able to buy a Piggly Wiggly t-shirt for just $5.19 plus tax. I promise I'll have a picture of her in it later on in our journey. OK, that's it for now. Have to stop dicking around and get back in southbound mode.

Mon - 8:45 AM: On the road again. I just can't wait to get on the road again... We're headed for Florida today. Time permitting, we might stop near Charleston to see James Island, where Stephen T. Colbert grew up. And tonight, dinner with the Howards! Catch you later.

Sun - 9:00 PM: Phew. Long day. Takes quite a bit of driving to get from the Outer Banks to the South Carolina coast. You've got to go almost a hundred miles inland before you can pick up U.S. 17 South, which takes you down to the shore in another hundred and fifty or so miles. Certainly an interesting ride though, and here we are in Myrtle Beach, back from dinner and chilling in our ocean-front hotel room, listening to the waves outside crashing on the shore.

Myrtle Beach, by the way, is not at all what I expected. Maybe it's the association with golf, but I expected it to be... classier? You know, more of a lush, upper-crust sort of resort town? It's so not. It's actually got a bit of a run-down, semi-seedy vibe going on, like no one's done anything to keep the place up since the 1970's. There's no boardwalk, either. Tracy was sure there was supposed to be a boardwalk.

Oh, speaking of my lovely wife, she has a few questions she'd like to ask about things down here in the South:

One thing that Tracy discovered today? She's a Bubbaphobe: Decidedly uncomfortable in the presence of big, sketchy-looking rednecks, especially when they seem to be checking us out. I thought that was kinda funny.


Sun - 10:00 AM: Before taking off this morning, Tracy and I visited the state park where the Wright Brothers made history by achieving sustained, powered flight for the first time. As expected, being at the site of such a great engineering feat filled me with awe and made me just a little bit verklempt. The large stone in the picture is where the Wright Flyer took off from on December 17th, 1903. The smaller stones in the distance mark the landing points of each successive flight, with the furthest being some 800+ feet down field.



Sun - 8:15 AM: We made fresh waffles at the breakfast bar this morning. That's right, we made them. It was pretty cool. The hotel pre-mixes the batter, and you just pour it into the waffle iron and set a timer. The resulting waffle is pretty decent. And as you can see, birds like 'em too.



Sun - 7:30 AM: Good morning from the Outer Banks!

I can't say this with absolute certainty, but I think this might be the first time I've ever seen a sunrise. I called the front desk last night and had them set us up with a 7:00 AM wake-up call just so we could shuffle out to the beach and greet the great ball of fire that bestows warmth upon our planet as it popped up over the horizon. It was a little chilly, and we were still kinda sleepy, but it was worth it to be there when that first sliver of orange appeared. Very cool indeed.


Sat - 9:25 PM: OK, that's the last time I ask Tracy "Do you want to check your email?" before I'm totally done using the computer.

Sat - 7:45 PM: I would like to heartily recommend the Outer Banks Brewing Station to anyone who finds their way down to Kill Devil Hills in the OBX. Tracy and I stumbled across this fine establishment tonight after driving down to Manteo and discovering that the Weeping Radish -- also a fine brewery -- had closed their restaurant at that location. Heading back north, Tracy's keen eyes detected the word "brewery" to our left, and so we pulled in to sample the wares (and eat, of course). The brews OBB had on tap were outstanding. The creamy hefeweizen offered an unusually enticing body with a strong lemon and honey punch to it. The "secretly spiced" ale was a real treat. I've had plenty of "spiced ales" that left me cold, but this was amazing. The "spices" hinted at incense and cedar and coriander and just a wildly intense spectrum of aromas that blew away the usual pumpkin and cinnamon routine that spiced ales tend to offer. And for dessert, I had the barleywine. Wow was it good. Typical barleywine up front, with a heavy whisky/brandy hit, but the ridiculously long aftertaste mellowed into hints of caramel and chocolate in the most sublime fashion. Unbelievable.

Anyhow, we're back at our room now, ready to read for a bit and call it an early night. Four hours of sleep in a fleabag last night and then eight hours of driving -- much of it through high winds and driving rain -- have left us in need of recharging the batteries before we pick up the trail and head for South Carolina tomorrow. So it goes when one gets on in years...


Sat - 4:20 PM: My feet have been bathed in the cool (well, OK, freezing cold) waters of the Atlantic Ocean. I am now officially in vacation mode.


Sat - 4:05 PM: I see Obama smacked Hillary down in the all-important Wyoming caucuses. Things are right with the world again. OK, now seriously, beach time...


Sat - 4:00 PM: Just arrived at the Kill Devil Hills Days Inn. We've got a lovely ocean-front room, and I'm about to change into shorts and sandals and walk all of 50 feet down to the waves. I'd love to share a picture with you, but somebody forgot the USB cable for the camera. That somebody would not be Tracy. I'll have to see if I can pick one up at a Staples or something.

Update: All hooked up now. Thank you, Staples, for seeing fit to grace this vacation hot-spot with an office supply store.



Sat - 8:00 AM: Good morning, peeps. Writing this from our warm, cozy booth aboard the good ship Delaware, which is taking us from Cape May, New Jersey over to Lewes, Delaware. Crossing time is 80 minutes and we're about a quarter of the way there, gently rolling side to side on a very foggy Delaware Bay. Although the boat has two wireless networks available, neither of them let me through to the internets, so I'll post this when we get to our next hotel.

The drive down to southern New Jersey last night was... eventful. We ran into a huge backup on I-84 in Southbury, CT where a tractor-trailer had rolled over. Then, in Jersey, we hit really bad rain. Visual ability* was terrible the whole way down, and the rain was coming down so hard that the water was thick on the road. I could feel the tires on the Prius struggling to cut through it and a couple of times we came dangerously close to hydroplaning.

Got to the hotel around 11:15 PM, which was exactly when Maggie said we'd get there. Oh, "Maggie" is our new Magellan Maestro GPS. Bought her at Costco on Thursday for $149.95. What a mesmerizingly cool little device. I swear I'm going to crack the car up because I keep staring at the display as I'm driving thinking "Whoa, it knows exactly where we are.... Whoa, look, it still knows exactly where we are." After we grabbed a bite at the Hillsdale rest stop on the Garden State, we plugged in the street in Marmona we needed to get to and let Maggie guide us there. For two hours we were intermittently interrupted by a female android voice telling us "Stay on.. current road.. in two miles.. Garden State Parkway". I found this advice unnecessary and kept mocking the device for dispensing it until Tracy finally said "If you don't stop making fun of her I'm going to turn her off." I relented.

The Marmona EconoLodge where we stayed last night was a good example of what $45 will get you for a motel room. Smelled like it had been canister-bombed with Glade fresh scent; headboard on the bed was six inches lower on the left than on the right; bathroom light didn't work until Tracy figured out you had to whack it; shower emitted a piercing squeal the whole time it was on. It was with this lovely atmosphere as a backdrop that, prior to going to bed, we officially toasted the start of our vacation with some box merlot in a pair of plastic cups. A magic moment for sure, albeit in a distinctly New Jersey kind of way.

After we make landfall, we're going to take Rt. 1 down the coast, then cut across to Rt. 13, which we'll take across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. From there, it's through Norfolk to the Outer Banks. Been a while since I've made that trip and I don't have a route planned, but I'm not worried. We've got Maggie.

(*New term Tracy coined. It's like "visibility" only different.)

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