"May I see your I.D.?" You are going to have to go get your hand stamped since you are under 21." After I get my hand stamped, I walk through the double doors. I can't help but hear the blastering beats that the DJ is bumping on stage. Then it hits me real strong in my nostrils, the smell of old cigarette butts. To some people this may be uncomfortable, but for me it's like a second home. I look to my left and see a group of people in the corner lighting up some good old cigarettes to puff on. I take a look to my immediate right because a smell that's familiar but illegal hits me. I see some guys firing up a blunt getting ready to get their high on.
             I immediately keep walking because the smell gets gross after awhile. At a nearby table, I see some friends of mine, so I go over there and I sit down and we proceed to talk. Behind us I can here people at the bar ordering their drinks and complaining about the prices. Next thing I know my jam comes on, and I immediately proceed to the dance floor.
             As I step on the dance floor, I can't help but notice some wet spots on the floor. I wonder where this has come from, so I look up and I see people dancing with their drinks in their hands. People that are dancing beside them are bumping into them so their drinks are flying everywhere. I imagine a lot has come from the balcony because there are a lot of drunks trying to dance and they are spilling their drinks left and right. Then are also broken beer bottles directly in the middle of the floor. This makes me a little mad because I would think people would want to save their drinks because they cost so much. I avoid the wet spots because falling is the last thing I want to do. When people fall everybody immediately stops and looks at them and begins to laugh. Some people ask if they are alright, but for the rest of the night these people will be known as the people who fell down, and I d
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