With the tiles in hand, let’s set up a game. It’s a little ritual, and it’s part of the fun.
Turn every tile face-down in the middle of the table and swirl them around to mix them — players call this washing the tiles. Then each player stacks tiles into a low wall, two high and nineteen long. The four walls slide together into a square that holds every tile in the set.
The dealer rolls the dice, and the total tells everyone where to break the wall — the spot where dealing begins. Because the dice land differently every hand, the starting point is always a surprise, which keeps things fair. Tiles are then handed out around the table: each player ends up with thirteen, except the dealer, who takes fourteen and makes the first discard.
Set your tiles on your rack, facing you, and arrange them in an order that makes sense — many players group by suit and number. Then glance at your card and notice what you’ve got. Don’t worry if nothing forms a clear hand yet; almost no one starts with a good hand. That’s exactly what the next step — the Charleston — is designed to fix.
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