last night was so 67

Went out last night, the whole crew just trying to shake off the week. The music was loud, drinks flowing, and everybody was laughing way too much at the dumbest stuff. Out of nowhere, someone said “67,” and for no reason at all it just sounded hilarious in the moment. We all cracked up, yelling “67!” across the table like it was some secret code.

Later on, I bumped into this girl near the bar. She asked what we were laughing about, and I said, “It’s a long story, but it starts and ends with 67.” She laughed, leaned in, and said, “Alright, then tell me 67.” That just made the rest of the group howl even louder—“More 67! More 67!”

Every time the DJ switched songs, somebody shouted “Track 67!” When the bartender asked for our tab, we joked it had to be “$67 exactly.” When she and I started talking more seriously, she teased me: “So is this like your 67th pickup line tonight?” I laughed and said, “Nah, this is number one… but we can call it 67 if you like.”

By the end of the night, it wasn’t just a random number anymore. It was our joke, our story. “67 cheers,” we said, clinking glasses. “67 laughs,” we shouted, piling into a booth. And as she gave me her number before I left, she grinned and whispered, “Make sure you save me under 67.”