Five minutes.
Five minutes later, I was booth-bound once more.
Things only got even stuffier and rowdier during my brief but eventful absence. It's as if everyone's confidence level had received a spike - and you can tell by their faces, not a single flicker of reluctance... just full-blown intent.
Then again, you go and stuff working-class adults in a small room continuously replenished with alcohol and snacks - what do you even expect? It's two plus two at that point.
Even the more reserve members of our posse were post-inebriated-ly bellowing their hearts out into the mic, and wobbling to the beat, all to the rigorous fanfare of their equally inebriated peers.
But not me though, I held out. Like the holy and pure boy that I was, I've abstained myself from partaking in the devil drink... and honestly, maybe I really oughta have. I mean, drunk and intoxicated was the only I could ever see myself doing something like this.
