Of late, the term ‘after party’ has danced its way into our collective lexicon. Though it may have been bereft of a formal eponym, at some point a few overzealous party goers decided to recognize it. This is a fictional recreation of what might have occurred. Resemblance to any party animal, dead or alive is purely coincidental. Somewhere in a party long long ago, the liquor would have been flowing freely and everyone thought the night would be forever young. Everything appeared to be going according to plan until for some reason, everything and everyone seemed to epitomize boredom. The booze only got you so high, there is only so much you could chat up that pretty damsel, and when the heck did you start drinking vodka and cranberry juice? From there on, the night started getting old very fast. Until some weary hung over partygoer said ‘where do we go after the party’? And another drunken soul misconstrued it as ‘after party’. To someone unfamiliar with the part...