Last Night Was a Blur - Did I Enter the 9th Circle of Hell or a Penn Frat Party?

The temperature: Baking hot.

The smell: Fire, sulfur, Santal 33 and smoke.

The vibe: I've been to places where the vibe is better.

What's raining from the sky: Frogs and locusts.

Who's here: Kristen Bell, that guy in my group project, Mark Ruffalo, my GGGG-big, the cute guy I sat next to the one time I did work in Cary Law, my sister's friend, Mark Ronson, and Michael Longfellow.

But the music they're playing is by Pawsa?

I'm so disoriented. In fact, I've never been more disoriented. Where am I?

I come to in a room with wooden floors and thick dark curtains, wearing that slip top that's mildly unflattering and jeans. What happened last night? Where was I? Did I die and come back to life? Will I make my 8:30 a.m. class? I've only got 10 minutes to get to Queering the Holocaust for the Second Time Because We Didn't Queer It Enough the First Time. I see Oliver Campbell shoes.

I scurry out, alongside two rats. I'm at Soleil on Chesnut? That new building built by the owners of Luna on Pine? There's a fully functioning and jam-packed shisha cafe next to me, but it's also 8 am. This is insane. Seriously, you guys, what happened last night?