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I came out and asked the nearest , which was surprisingly still open, where I could find alcohol at that hour.

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There was an extremely fat guy sitting on a couch next to the main counter who was vociferously switching through channels on his personal TV set kept right there. The counter was managed by a bearded guy who looked South Indian owing to his oiled curly hair and the fact that every waiter was addressing him as “Anna.” “Would you like to drink right here or do you want me to hand over the bottles to you? “I think we’ll sit here only for a while,” both of us responded in unison.

Unsurprisingly the alcohol was really cheap at that place.

Because they didn’t look like a danger, we did decide to go on a short walk to the shack. Come inside and have a seat.” The guy limped when he walked.