I spent my fourteenth summer drifting
up and down the Atlantic City boardwalk. I was alone, as my classmates
gravitated instead to nearby Ocean City, which touted itself as “America’s
Greatest Family Resort.” The main leg for this claim seemed to be that Ocean
City was a dry town. The city limit of neighboring Somers Point was delineated
by a row of bars and package good stores, the last line of defense against
enforced sobriety.
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