They were straining to enjoy themselves, having anticipated this day for months. The collective amount of energy being exerted by the crowd could have powered an Arctic icebreaking cutter. People grinned painfully and tried to chat throughout the meal. Forced laughter brittled the room. Much liquor was consumed.
Couples strove to put some zip in their dancing.
But all their efforts died on the vine. When I saw Stan excuse himself, probably to go to the john, I got up too. I figured I'd catch him in the men's room and broach the problem to him, get his ideas about what anyone could do, even at this late hour, to liven things up. Also, I wanted to make sure he didn't hang himself with his bow tie from a pipe. Strangely, in the lavatory I felt a little better.