It all began one drunken evening in the Tafarn pub at Cardiff University's Student Union, during one of those familiar, and far too regular, unplanned drinking sessions.

Timothy D. Payne could often be located at this particular jaunt on a Friday night, propping up the bar and slurring love-based compliments at almost all the young ladies that passed. A tall, Devonshire fellow, Payno was a cider lover and appreciated fine tastes in liquor, sport and women. He was always partial to a skinful of cider, a couple of Captain Morgan's, and a cheesy boogie to crap manufactured teenage bands in the adjoining nightclub.

It was early February and cold. Payno had been sat in the pub for hours due to an unforeseen dispute with an ex-girlfriend, and the cider had been sinking nicely. He contented himself with the thought that in an hour or two, he would be drunk, happy, and dancing ridiculously with his customary ear to ear grin glued to his face. He was relaxed now, excited about his future prospects and intent on forgetting his previous roller-coaster relationship.

It was a big decision, Hugo Boss, Armani or Cool Water? Jonathan A. Cook hated this sort of mental challenge and concluded that he would wear neither this evening as he was merely popping out to the pub for a swift pint to discuss football tactics with his team manager.

Cook was a pleasant chap, renound for his ability to poke fun at himself. Standing 5 feet 10 inches, Cook was of average height, which was lucky because he was of average build too. A clever man, Cook had many qualifications and his attendance at Cardiff University was to add a gleaming BSc degree in Business Administration with French to his ever-expanding collection.

Life was good, student living was proving to be most enjoyable, particularly since his two-year relationship with 'the nemesis' had ended four months earlier and girls were flocking in his direction. Some would get lucky, others would be turned away. In fact, the situation became so hectic that Cook had to introduce a take-a-ticket-and-wait-in-the-queue system in his residence, just to establish a sense of order in the building. He was devilishly handsome, of Caucasean descent, yet there was a certain Hispanic air about him. His most distinguishing feature was the spikey style of his hair, combed flatly forward to the front where it was drowned in gel and directed vertically, earning him his nickname, 'Quiff'.

He strolled into the pub, expecting the usual onslaught of women and a round of applause. Amazed and confused why this failed to occur, Quiff made his way to the bar and ordered a lager, uneasy at such a shock. He turned, looking to see if the manager had arrived yet, but to no avail. The pub was busy as usual and people were constantly jostling about, trying to establish a comfortable drinking position without the risk of having their drink spilt repeatedly. It was a common occurence. Fellow students would drink copious amounts in this pub before moving on to the recently renamed Solus nightclub. Consequently, this point in the evening was sheer mayhem.

Suddenly Quiff heard a loud, sharp shriek. He looked over, clearly he had been recognized and he awaited his overdue barrage of females. Not so. Across the other side of the bar he could see a tall man hunched over the bar corner, saliva dripping from the man's mouth. There was a distinctly sly, yet pleased grin on the man's face, and Quiff noted the six empty pint glasses in front of this drunkard. It was obvious to him that this man had attempted some sort of move on a passing female, who had reacted in a natural manner and rejected his advances. Quiff glanced at the man again, focusing further on his habits. "Ah, Payno!" Quiff exclaimed, and battled his way through the rabble to rescue his inebriated companion.

Several pints later, and many Payno attempts to pull, the subject of summer holidays cropped up. Payno mentioned that he had begun planning a trip to the USA, along with another friend of his, Gaz Jones. Payno, in a state of pure drunkenness, made a fatal error. He invited Quiff because "it would be a crack".

Since that date, when both Payno and Quiff intoxicated themselves, slurred incomprehensibly, and danced wildly like mad buffoons, plans and extensive preparations were made. Payno and Quiff would fly out to New York on 30/07/01 to travel around until meeting up with Fuller, Ellis, and Gaz on 15/08/01. The mission was clear. The lager in South Wales was becoming repetitive, we needed something else to drink, something else to abuse our livers with, something else to make the uglies look beautiful. Another source had to be located. The selection was made. The United States...