I Lose My Way

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.