The smooth feel of the floor is refreshing after a near hour in the backseat of a stuffy car.
Others stroll in with looks of exasperation and despair, as their sleep deprived condition causes them to struggle at making simple conversation.
In other words: dance rehearsal.
I scamper excitedly to center stage while the others make their way to the back corners.
Numbers are counted off, speakers begin to blast, and I am instantaneously swallowed up by the start of the song.
I am in a whole new world as my sneakers squeak on the freshly polished floor.
The club smells of smoke and the atmosphere is mediocre at best, but just to be dancing
I am in heaven.