Leave your friends to go dancing with the group of hot single guys.

You glance around and pretty much everyone is leaving. The party is over. But the fun doesn't have to be.

You feel a bit guilty, but you head over to Chris. He pauses in his argument with his brother who can barely stand up. “Hey, go ahead with Tyler. Don't worry,” he says, reading your mind, then gives you a quick hug.

You head for the door, and Jeff already has out his key card. “Hurry, catch up!” he slips the card into your hand and urges you down the hallway with a hand on your shoulder.

You have to jog, a bit unsteadily though, to catch up to the last of the greenshirts piling into an elevator. You duck in just before the doors close, and there's a small round of cheers from the guys. Every movement seems to mean some piece of someone is rubbing against some part of you. You decide it's actually kind of awesome being packed like sardines into an elevator with this meaty boisterous group. Most of them introduce themselves, but your drunken brain can't remember any names with how fast they're talking.

You all exit the tower and burst out into the cool night air. The first group down has already been flagging taxis.

Tyler and Trevor slide into a standard taxi by themselves. The greenshirts have already filled up one minivan taxi, and the rest are piling into a second. You spot Dom in the full minivan, and the second is filling up quickly. A few loud voices encourage you to sit on someone's lap.

You hear a familiar grating accent behind you, “Oh, geez, I'm too old for this.” You spin, barely keeping your balance and see Leo and Jimmy exiting the building arm in arm. Leo notices you, “Oh, here'ee'iz!”

Jimmy flashes you a bright smile, “Get a cab with us!” Did the kid really just invite you to be a third wheel?

The second van of greenshirts calls you over again. “Sit on our laps!”