CHAPTER NINETEEN † CRAWLOUR PUB CRAWL started at a hole-in-the-wall accessible through a back alley somewhere in Canary Warf. It was one of many in a line stretching for
several blocks on both sides of the street. Who knew the business district had so many drinking spots? Well, I guess they should, since businessmen need to get drunk too. The band and I started at
the bar and ended up at a table after the second round of Guinness. I initially asked for rum and Coke, but Graham and the boys made fun of me for being a tourist.
“When in England, you drink Guinness,” Graham said while shoving a giant glass of the dark, mysterious brew my way.
I stared at it. White foam on top, black as night the rest of the way. “You really expect me to drink this?”
“Only if you want your troubles to disa
