November 17th, 2003

It was an outside do, fairy lights hung up from the withering braches of the autumn trees lining the garden of whoever’s party it was. Noah didn’t need to know. Speakers had been moved outside to maximize the chance you may get bleeding ears if you stood too close. Huge crowds of people were gathering; it was a whole new world inside a crowd than out. Sweltering heat, bodies clashing, the earth rumbling beneath your feet as you jump to an ecstasy filled oblivion to the beat of whatever song was blasting through the ribcages of the hammered crowd.

Noah preferred inside the crowds.

A deadly mix of Iron brew and Vodka that had been famously nicknamed ‘The Flying Scotsman’ from a now legendary happening at a new years party a few years back clouded his line of vision and slurred his words and movement. He was in a dream. Music from a band he failed to name but made a mental note to search up when he got home was shaking the walls with the bass line that echoed his racing heartbeat. His wizard hat was slipping down his black mop of uncombed hair as he slapped the back of a guy he vaguely knew as Joshua who was dressed as a banana and cheered as everyone seemed to raise their assorted intoxicating liquids to the ceiling. He suddenly spotted the girl who had been eyeing him all evening and winked at her, sipping his 7th Stella of this autumnal night so far. She was dressed as some sort of fairy, all glittery and pink, fake eyelashes batting away. Fairy related pick-up lines start to whiz through his mind as he went into scoring mode. Try and remember her name this time...

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