Club

The music is loud, undanceable dance tunes I have never heard. Lights flash, sometimes blindingly in my eyes, and the air is hot and humid. Overhead an exposed pipe sporadically drips condensation. People around me look like they are enjoying themselves. But then again, appearances can be deceiving. Afterall, I must look like I am enjoying myself too. The only person I can see who doesn't look like she's enjoying herself is the birthday girl. I think she is a bit too drunk to pretend. I know she would happier elsewhere, but I think with her friends looking like they are having a good time, it would be impolite to suggest it.

I throw some shapes, waving my arms around and smiling. I try the robot, the wave, the big fish, small fish, the DJ, the drunken sway. None feel right with the music and I just want to go home and sort my life out. Inside my head I am wondering about the time. When is it appropriate, polite, to cut and run? Definitely not before midnight, nor on midnight. At half-past other friends are leaving, and I tag along on the out, relieved. "Sorry, I'm not as young as I used to be!" I make my excuses, wish her happy birthday, and leave, feeling guilty. But I know my presence really can't make much of a difference and our absences would possibly hasten her bedtime, so I tell myself that my leaving is efficient.