The sticky floor sways, rolling you toward the bar.
You order, “A water,” because you promised your mum, “A shot of Sambuca,” because your friends dare you, “And a beer,” because it’ll relax the buzz in your nerves.
Downing the first two, you turn to the dance floor. Your friends slap you on the back, hook your arms and drag you into the indivisible mass of bodies.
The flashing lights and pounding music drown out any individual thoughts and you become part of the moment. Jumping and yelling, half remembered lyrics, you spend the rest of the night dancing drunk.