Our project director invited everyone to dinner and drinks after work last night. We ate at a place called Ebisu, a Japanese restaurant which, for a moment, I thought did not offer any raw fish dishes. (It turns out I just missed the page on the menu with the sashimis and the sushis.) As is customary among the French, our director required us to drink first before eating. However, according to my manager, the French drink something light, like wine, before a meal, and not martini, which, fortunately, did not materialize. Before the end of the night, some of my coworkers were already taking off their jackets and dancing to the peppy tune playing on the restaurant radio. Our neighbors were somewhat scandalized, but then decided to join the show, and started stripping and dancing as well. As for myself, after a couple of margaritas, three glasses of vodka and three bottles of beer, I was speaking in tongues, but far from performing miracles.