I’m at a party and am about to leave to go home. On my way out, Mark O’Brien asks if I need a ride. I say yes, and he takes us downtown.

He parks and is concerned his car will collapse the parking structure because the structure was likely overweight. He (rightfully but annoyingly) blames the establishment.

Outside a Bar None-like bar in St John’s, around 4am, I run into familiar faces.

Rob Mercer comes outside with a girl and introduces us. “This is Smitty’s younger brother.” She is entirely ambivalent as she lights a cigarette. “Oh yeah?”

Bridger goes on a solid drunken rant, which starts with railing against Kelly Ann being “cancelled”. She’s about to throw up, so a few of us walk with her around the street as the sun is coming up.

We pass by a regular graffiti wall that is newly cleaned.

“I wonder who they got today,” Bridger says to herself. She sees that a Moxy Fruvous tag is only half wiped away and yells, “Mox-ay!!”

She throws up a bit, which causes me to throw up a bit, and we go back and forth with our throws up.
I comment, “That was like a ballet.”

Everyone laughs, but I quickly wonder to myself if there was a better line I could have said without resorting to a simile.

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