The morning after St. Patrick's Day in the deep south. Green beads litter the street, the air smells of stale beer. There is a car parked ahead of you with a face staring at you, screaming. You've been awake for so long you start to question if its real or not. The face is a reflection of your feelings from the night before, the terror, the against, of being in lost in a strange city and the people you've met across the way.