After taking the first sip of my third

beer

I wondered why the thought even entered my head at all. I didn't even share the sentiment with my friends who were already five or six drinks into pregraming because there would be no point. It was a stupid thought anyways. Skip the formal.

Plus what would they do with that information if I shared it with them? Would they offer me any support or anything? No. If anything they would grow bulwark assertive about me going. Then I wouldn't even have a choice on going or skipping out. I guess I still wanted that feeling. One of free will. Up until the last moment, when I walked through the ballroom door.

The formal wasn't actually happening at a bsllroom at all. But I liked imagining it that way. They didn't even have ballrooms in the states. If they did you would need to move in wealthy circles to attend a party in one. Not my type of people. I looked around. We were the descendants of well to dos, but not the movers of society who spent nights in ballrooms.

I'll tell you exactly the type of people we were. Our parents did well enough that they could send us to a state university. And there we had enough support that we could afford rent and food and even beer without having to have a job. This didn't mean we could go to the bar and buy rounds of top shelf for everybody, but it did mean that we didn't need to think twice when picking up a handle of

Jim Beam

or a 30 rack of

Busch Light

.

This was the kind of people we were. And these people would never consider skipping something like the October Formal.