I don't often go into town on a Friday night, but last night was the badminton club social so I made an exception.
We met in a nightspot, or was it a club, or a bar? I'm not sure. I'd never been there before.
Because the drinks were paid for out of the kitty, I drank too much. My Protestant upbringing has taught me two things: to drink in moderation and never to miss a bargain. In a situation where these two things are in conflict, I've learnt that the latter imperative has moral superiority.
I tried to leave the bar / club / nightspot at about 11.30 pm, an hour after my usual bedtime. Due to the lateness of the hour, I was confused and couldn't find the exit. I ended up on what I can only think was some kind of dance floor, because within seconds I found myself swaying from foot to foot opposite a man who looked far too young. "How old are you?" I shouted. "Forty-five," he lied. I felt claustrophobic and scanned the glass walls, looking for a way out. I spotted the exit. "Got to go to the toilet," I said.
I made it to the cool air outside and walked home through silent streets, relieved and giggling.
:-)
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