You run into some friends of yours who are going to a party on Florence Street. You decide to join them. Might as well get wasted, there is nothing better going on. The cops haven't seem to caught on yet that there is a party, even though you can smell the pot within a two-block radius of the apartment.

 The apartment is very crowded and is thick with cigarette smoke and other assorted smells. You receive a beer and drink it quickly. You gag. Why does it taste like piss? You check the can. Yuck, you didn't see that it was Natural Light!

 As you walk through the house, you find a room that people are just hanging out and talking in. There is a girl there that you have lusted after for many months. You heard last week that she just broke up with her boyfriend. She's half drunk already, so you probably won't have to try too hard to pursue her.

You start talking to her. You seem to have many similar interests. You are about to ask for her phone number when you suddenly feel sick. Covering your mouth, you rush for the bathroom, tripping over several party-goers, and you don't exactly make it. As you open a random door, looking for the bathroom, you feel sick and puke in someone's bed. You've learned that Bistro food and beer don't quite mix, especially on the bed of the very angry drunk person who is now approaching you with a tire iron.