Building Tents? No. Pitching Tents.

Last night I was in a very fancy hotel pitching tents in the lobby. What? Yeah thats right. I found myself wearing French clothes from 1900, and constructing lattice work in a race against time. Why? I don't know. But in the end many rich people where sampling fine food, while I "sampled" an excessive amount of fine wine. I was supposed to stamp the guests as the entered, and for awhile I handled this job like a pro. Soon however the wine took charge and I was multi-stamping, slurring, and leaning on a door for dear life. Never fear true believers, even with my swerve on I kept everyone secure. I also ate a shit load of cream puffs.