Our compatriot, by the will of fate, falls into the body of Alexander Hamilton, the first US Treasury Secretary... What can I say, it was a cool vacation, Florida is just fire and California and Alaska are also very good, how insulting that Russia left there, ehh... But what can you do. The past is a thing of the past, but now I have a "cultural program," the Broadway musical "Hamilton," the hottest novelty of the season, I'll look and go home, to Moscow, the patients are waiting, the next operation is on Tuesday... Come on man, I was rooting for you for the whole performance, we have already shot this boor and disperse, I still need to catch the plane... Second. What's going on here? Why am I wearing some old clothes, and a smoking pistol in my hand? And most importantly: why is that friend aiming at me?!