I forget what happened in between, perhaps my brain closer to waking retrofit some storyline in there for the next developments.
Then it was nighttime and someone had moved into the dry room so I had to get my magazines out. Coincidentally there was a gaming convention going on next door, how convenient. One of the chick friends of the guy who had rented the dry room hinted she might be able to hook me up with smoke, but when it came down to it, it was tiny pinners rolled in red and green paper, laced with some unidentified other substance, maybe meth. I didn't want any meth, so I wandered off feeling grumpy. The party atmosphere was starting to set in, some kid-dude decided I'd be a fun person to squirt lube at from a couple of pen-size dispensers. I disarmed him and shot them at him instead. Then I staggered off, not drugged but the weight of sleep was crossing over. It got easier when I remembered I could fly. Around the clusters of kids partying and making noise outside, while middle-aged housewives peeked out their windows scowling before calling the police to complain about noise, I spun like an angel lube sprinkler into the night, back to my room if I could ever find it, and woke up.