This session promised to be fun, but suddenly your company left you. Everyone suddenly had unexpected things to do and you were forced to go to the club alone. Men with black makeup and long facial hair stared at you in the long hallway, and girls with Mohawks and fishnets smiled at you. You miraculously managed to get a comfortable seat for a view of the stage when the first warm-up band came on. The people buzzed, not even knowing who was playing.

But before you could hear the name of the artists, the punk who was walking next to you suddenly tripped over a chair leg. The beer in his hands slipped out. It hit you right on your shirt as the man tried to catch the drink.

"Oh shit! Sorry, man."