Discoteque Space

I am so tired. Today has been the longest day. It all started last night after much too much Grey Goose and not enough grace. Originally the plan was to pregame hard and go out dancing, but plans changed, as they often do. Natalie and I decided to change things up a bit and pick up some Peronis, as opposed to the standard chianti and sippy cups. On our way to the club we bought Bacardi Breezers from a snack stand. So when I finally reached Space (weird name, huh?) I was already pickled, a colloquialism care of Tina. Tina and I hopped inside to check out the scene while Natalie and Irum waited outside for her friend in town from Pakistan. Inside I felt a strange feeling like I had been there before. When I finally made it to the dance floor I knew for sure that I had been there before, unmistakable cigarette room off the dance floor, large room with flashing lights and dancing cells above. It was four years ago on my high school Europe trip. I distinctly remembered because this was the club where Emilie Susanin was caught dancing with an older man when her dress fell off and our teachers called her parents. Anyways, Irum's friend Hussein finally arrived and decided to do bottle service. Needless to say, he is pretty well off. Irum explained that his mother owns the equivalent of the Paul Mitchell of Pakistan. Get the picture? Oh, and he models. So it was VIP all the way, equipped with our very own room in front of the dance floor. Long story short, after drinking enough to call it a night ahead of time and taking advantage of free Grey Goose and Absolut, I got shit-canned, made out with five people including Natalie, and told Tina "I don't care if you are Catholic, I am not going home with you." She won't stop gifting me with details and cute little anecdotes of my stupidity from last night. And honestly, as alcoholism runs in my family and, priding myself on my own maturity, I would rather she stop that now. I don't want to know what else I said or who else I puked on. Frankly, the blacking out is kinda nice because I can just say "I don't remember." I skipped class this morning, after waking up in my wedges from the night before and a back ache from the linoleum of the bathroom floor. Apparently I didn't know how to unlock the door last night in my drunken stupor. Ok, breathe. Repeat "stupid maya. stupid maya. stupid maya..."