I pressed my naked hand harder on the glass. The cold was beginning to sting but I wanted my energetic neighbors to sense me before they left for the next powerline over: “Yes, yes, I am here too.”
Maybe I’m misremembering, but isn’t there a G-20 rule that Pitbull is only allowed to be played strictly between the hours of 11pm and 4am? You know, the timeframe when you can shamelessly acknowledge that you somehow know every word to every Pitbull lyric. Of which there are three.