We ultimately infiltrated a Hawaiian restaurant. I was under the impression that I was relatively sober, like Lindsay Lohan. A friend ahead of me in line ordered, gorged his plastic glass with much-needed ice water, and stood near me.
"I really want to hit that glass out of your hand," I informed him, as serious as Stalin. This surprised me as much as the time my most polite friend drunkenly illuminated me in front of four girls, "Kara, they're fat and they're ugly!"
"Please don't," he replied.
"Okay. But I really want to hit it. I don't know why," I continued.
"It's tempting me!" I said, my voice louder than necessary and resembling a Chinese-woman-screech.
I hit it out of his hand with Muhammad Ali force. The plastic glass thundered to the tile floor, the ice cubes cracking and the water pooling.
"Oh no! Why?" he questioned.
"I honestly don't know," I said. I was a bit more intoxicated than I thought.
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