This is that time of the month again, when the hillbillies go wild and do the boogie-woogie. One could observe Newton's (all the three) laws in practice. The drill never seems to change. Muzac starts just before midnight, alcohol starts flowing sometime after that, the floor is empty for a while, some slightly drunk boys jump into the floor, people shaking their hips in the side with a glass of alcohol or plain coke, some more jump in, a few girls start and then return to their bases, more boys, most of the girls are dancing now, one or two people dance comparatively great, 2 hours into midnight and the crowd thins as the drinks run out and the hill people lose steam. Some dance on till the wee hours while the rest return to their rooms. The same routine everytime, like a clockwork. Even the playlist sounds the same party after party. Last year was bad, after listening to the same songs in the same order, one could exactly predict what song would come next. Today, the playlist was mostly different and new faces in the crowd - visitors on the hill.
Now starts the real fun; the sound effects that reach my room. At around 2am, I can hear some guys retching in the toilets. First only one, then one more, then one more; they all vomit in unison, like a choir, or the frogs near a pond. I could hear one while I am typing this. Well then, all's well that ends well. Except for some: Life's a bitch, then you die.