She was drunk in a situation where she shouldn’t have been, she saw clearly every glass of Margarita she downed, She saw every particle of salt on the rim of the glass. She knew she was getting there. There were three or four producers she was supposed to have a conversation with, or that’s what she had planned. Every time she tried to get closer, they were surrounded with a circle of the rest of the directors, who she thought, just like her, needed to pitch. She felt helpless trying to break their circle. Was that the reason why she lost count of her Margaritas? She took the very last glass, salt was glowing like disco lights, people were talking movies around her, budgets, festivals, winners, bad cinematographers, extraordinary editors, flexible actors, Muslim actors, Latinos, webseries, Sundance gossip... How much she detested these trivial talks that pertained to everything but the very thing that they were pretending to pertain to. She felt like she is breathing in the mud. As she put the Margarita on the shelf she hears a SIA’s song paying. She doesn’t think it’s pop, she doesn’t think it’s tacky. SIA HAS A HEART. She was just thankful she said to a sad looking guy who was lighting his cigarette by the window and looked back at her just like he looked at his lighter, she started dancing, she felt the room watching her she imagined or she simply was more comfortable feeling that way. She saw the same guy offering her a joint. She got closer, took the joint, took a drag and in no time the ceiling was under her feet. She ran to the bathroom. Was everyone still watching her? She stumbled she got up. She touched the door. She squeezed the handle. It was locked. She had vomited all over the door was what she realized in the next twenty seconds.