In my mind, an auditorium hosting one of the school dances I never went to. A sock hop, what else? The daydream harem enters, shoes kicked off in a pile before me. Standing in shameless admiration, I catch a draft as the door opens, reminding me of my embalmed life when the lights go out in here. Happily, it's just indispensable you coming in from the cold. And before my throat can lock and farce the words, I manage to say, "Goin' without you'd be like goin' with Schlitz instead of Budweiser's!" Then we're out on the dance floor with our eyes and schemes. This bash absent a pervy compadre? It'd be down to watching wax ghost off the boards.