There's nothing quite as bleak as this. A table full of middle-aged men with pockmarked noses, cheeks rosy with drinks, and too-loud laughs. They've forgotten their inside voices and their tact. They're swapping dirty jokes and inwardly remembering how long it's been since their wives last let them touch them. Tables nearby glance at them, embarrassed, talking in hushed tones and shaking their heads. Tomorrow they'll go back to their desks with headaches and bloated bellies but tonight they feel like kings, like comedians, reckless and foolhardy and everything they used to be but somehow lost along the way.