Story, part 7

How did I get HERE, again! Why am I HERE? What is HERE? Why is HERE, HERE?! OK, people, don´t you understand, this isn´t quite enjoyable. I don´t think I´m going to go back in. No, really. Arin, just walk away. Come one, you can do it, don´t go back into that door. Just DONT! The Argentine puts her hand in my direction. Arin, don´t take her hand, just don´t! I place my hand onto the Argentines, and she and I re-enter the Reefer, with Barabara close behind.

Bam, Badam, Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam, Do, DO DODODODODODODODODODODO. The music blared at an almost intolerable level, the dancers had now increased, and my annoyance level would probably have been through the roof, though, the bizarre bacteria that was growing on the ceiling kept it just below height. Why, oh why did I return- oh, great, it´s Mr. B. ¨Hola, como estas!¨ I said in a perky, yet obviously irritated voice. ¨Hey man, you really need to get on this floor¨ He replied with eyes in a constant blink and head twitching. Uh, I try to keep my public humiliation at a minimum. But thanks. ¨Thanks for the offer, but Yo Soy Cansado¨ After hearing my response, Mr. B immediately headed back to the dance floor for some more spastic dance. Why did I return, why did I return... Argentine spots an individual who she knows and walks away. Barbara and I are now just standing there. The awkwardness, in my opinion, feels like two strangers who are going up 300 flights in an elevator. The two of you feel a need to break the silence, but at the same time, you´re content to just keep quiet.