I spent my formative years in a place called Charles County, Maryland. It was just 25 miles from our nation’s capital, but most of the time it couldn’t have felt farther away to me if it had been in the middle of Oklahoma. Once a major tobacco-growing area, the county had an annual fair—I had high school friends who were in the FFA and so on. And like all county fairs, every year they crowned a new queen of the fair. Some of my high school classmates vied for this honor.
The title? Queen Nicotina.
I’m not kidding.