He walked in the door with a serious look on his face shy of a slight leer with an enormous cigar parked between his teeth, as a cloud of heavy smoke followed his round frame. He wore his signature suit, an oversized button up polo shirt, cap, shorts and orange flip-flops. A bulky shiny heavy looking charm bracelet consumed his entire right arm reflecting every beam of light step by step. He then slides in the corner booth with high leather back overlooking the entire space. A king astray sits strategically in the middle of the huge round linen-cloth table that separates us. He takes a heaping puff from the huge tobacco stick as the end lite a bright blaze orange red illuminating the entire corner where we sat. He serenely tilted his head upwardly west and wafted out the most single line of smoke into the air, gazed at the instrument and placed it home. He looks around, signals the bartender with a nod and moments later a frozen martini glass appears. The waitress pours a dark liquid with a sweet smell and bubbles. "It's rum and coke stirred not shaken," he says while confidently smirking. She then squeezes lime drops in the drink then Mr. Williams takes a simple sip, smirks, sighs and sits back confidentially and says "ask away!" I begin with a simple question, what is TROY BLVD?