It’s one of those nights.
Hot, humid air that can be sliced with a knife immediately dampens everything it envelops. Loud, familiar music blasts forcefully into your eardrums as countless bodies collide with you in the ultimate display of unconscious collusion to keep you from advancing further across the room. A floor cocktail of the foulest order beckons from below — that mushy collection of beer cast asunder, grime stripped from shoes worn in various terrains, disfigured remnants of plastic cups and popcorn, and a few mystery ingredients, about which you’d rather not know any details.
It’s one of those Friday nights at the Linebacker Lounge before a Notre Dame Fighting Irish home football Saturday, and you’re in your happy place.