...and how can I get there

it was a beutiful early spring morning. the air was fresh but you could feel the warmth in the southern breeze. the door to no. 214 opens, a woman steps out, looks to the sky and smiles. it's going to be a good day. with a spring in her step, she heads for the bus stop, smiling at the school children running in the opposite direction.

amazing how much the weather can affect your mood, she thinks to herself. work seems but a childs play, specially when you spend most of your time e-mailing friends to plan the evening ahead, and how convenient that the boss needed to pop out for a few hours just before the lunch break.

"hello hello", she sais with laughter in her voice," I'm on my way to the lounge, see you guys in half an hour". watches the light fade as she descends the escalator, takes in the familiar smells of the underground and thinks: "it's going to be a good night".

one by one, they arrive, kisses are exchanged, the usual chit chat, beers are fetched, music fills the air, the conversation grows louder. beers are fetched. the music grows louder. off to the bar, beers are accepted as tokens of affection, she borrows a hat, gets a bit lost but is found by way of gsm, who's this, spikey! hello spikey, spills her beer, now where is that whotsername, well well well, she found herself a kok, er, sorry, a chef, samesame, now where's my beer, ah, on the floor, see, I'm fully coherent, now where did that 24 year old go and how did you manage to age 2 years so quickly, you're yummie, eh sorry, spikey, forgive my memory, it's on holiday, yeah, think it's gone to fjarskanistan, heard it's good there, so, my young knight, where's your black horse and how can I get there...