"It's kind of like a flash mob," she tells me.
"Uh-huh". Arms crossed and eyelids lowered as I stare at her in silent disapproval. In the middle of our damned vacation, she pulls this on me. And what's with these cheesy jumpsuits? She just happened to pack them accidentally on purpose, I suppose?
"I really do not want to do this" I repeat.
"You need to let go once in a while. It's good for you," she lectures.
I'll have none of that. "It is cold. It is late. I am hungry and I want a steak."
