A round of extravagant cocktails with provocative names kicked off the giggles and conversation amongst the girls. The second drink was a more conservative glass of cheap white wine to ensure that the night’s budget was spread out as effectively as possible. After dancing to music that accentuated the precarious length of each woman’s dress, we acknowledged our shared sense of thirst with nods toward the bar. When the liquid had solidified our confidence, Tenniel and I snuck off to make our presence known online, ‘checking in’ beside a trash can filled with paper towels, in front of a toilet clogged with tissue and rank smells. Our reflection was all that I could focus on at this stage, and its feathered edges required no filter.