I write on hot tracks. I just returned from a concert of the group, the name of which begins with the word "meaningful" and ends with the word "hallucinations". Tickets were purchased for a table, designed for 5 people. We are both: I and a friend. At the table was another man, let’s call him Eugene. Evgeny and I politely met, and all three ordered a cocktail, then a beer (a separate bar was provided for the tables).

The concert is close to completion, our newly sung acquaintance Evgeny under the sounds of another soul song descends on the dance floor and disappears from the field of sight. Well, I think the shit went away. As you can guess, I was wrong.

The next part of the story was the waitress who brought the account. Common for the whole table.

Attempts to find Evgeny were unsuccessful, and after some explanations, it was still possible to avoid spending on someone else's drink (separate thanks to adequate staff), but the sediment remained.

Eugene, you are wrong.