Tequila Shots…

          Chip Esten rolled onto his back; he couldn't sleep any more. The stifling heat and the strange throbbing of his left eye had made the whole concept unbearable.
          Wearily he sat up with full expectation of his feet hitting the floor. Instead he had the odd sensation they were floating on a warm breeze.
          Looking down for the first time Chip realized he was sitting on a bunk in what looked like a dormitory. He slid from the bunk to the dusty floor and was surprised to find it was as just as warm as the air.
          In the bunk below him was Greg Proops. Greg was snoring softly with the blanket tucked up under his chin. Chip wondered how he could bear it in such heat.
          Chip staggered forward and checked the bunk opposite. Colin was on top with his blanket on the floor, and his arms and legs were flopped in various angles. Ryan was on the bottom bunk, his feet hung over the edge and the blanket was far from long enough.
          In the third and final bunk were Wayne, who was, like Greg, tightly wrapped in his blanket, and Brad who was on his stomach cuddling his pillow.
          Chip made a final check of the room and noticed there was a single bed by the far window. It was Drew, snoring like a freight train.
          Where the hell where they? Chip wondered running his hands through his hair. The last thing he remembered was they were all at a bar and something to do with Tequila shots.