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I stood there, at the bar, a beer in the hand. Watching it for the moment. This wasn't a very good evening to me. A close friend of mine had picked me up. He wanted to go out. I answered the door in my shabby trousers, with paint marks, a sweater which was pretty old and had some holes at the shoulders, and some abused pair of sneakers. I had asked him five times if I could get the time to put something else on. He wouldn't allow me, he, another friend and the girlfriend of that friend were sitting in the car, and we needed to go... now. That was how it had all started and how I had wound up at the bar here, all by myself, in the middle of the bustling crowd, everyone dancing and singing. The friend that came to pick me up took some girl home, or found some old friend he took of with, he hadn't said a thing, but he had disappeared. The other friend and his girlfriend were dancing somewhere in the club. But they would probably go back home by public transport, after the sun would come up. There I stood, underdressed for this occasion, and not really in any mood. I was listening to the music, enjoying my beer, but on the other side, a bit pissed at my friends, and feeling a bit lonely aswell.

I was just deciding this would be my last beer and then I would go home, as the last train would go in half an hour and I didn't want to wait for another five hours to go with the first morning train, when I felt something landing on my trousers. Wet, smelly, damn it, it was beer. Someone had thrown a glass of beer over my leg. This was getting me in a bad mood. I loved to drink the stuff, but to get it into your ...

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