Antisocial Social Media (Part One)

**This is an introduction. 

All it takes for one night of alcoholic social lubrication to turn exceedingly dull is when everybody has an internet connection and a smartphone. And everybody, by way of popular decision, communicates with a Qwerty keyboard and a series of downward swipes as opposed to talk that uses the mouth. 

We were having an okay time with the local brandy when they ran out of relevant things to say. And then all discussion ceased halfway through that delicious liter. It was one in the morning, and the person to my left, She, her eyes, I noticed, tired of movement and focused on the clock instead. It is now 1:05 am.The person to my right, He, I noticed, shifted himself to her general direction and picked up his smart phone. There was nothing discrete with how he gestured his phone to her. So she picked up her phone and started typing. It is now 1:07 am.

The person to His left logged in to Facebook after taking a swig of brandy a couple of minutes ago. That was the last we heard from him, save for the occasional Dubsmash videos and half-drunk murmurs about unfriending. 

The person to Facebook's left asked Her for the WiFi password. His pockmarked face was both comical and greasy, I noticed, when he smiled his request. She gave him my password, which is okay, since I can always change that anytime I felt like "You get your own God Damned internet subscription, Greasy." I noticed that Greasy's smile widened as his fingers began swiping downwards on his phone. We never heard from him from that point on. This was far from regretful since Greasy wasn't much of a talker anyway. His one contribution to our social gathering was to occupy space and have mass, for sure.  

There was a faint vibration to my right before He picked up His phone. We lost Him completely when He started typing on His phone. She was just as prompt with Her reply, and He was the only one smiling now. Something may or may not be mutual between these two, I noticed. Meanwhile, our half-empty bottle of brandy is mutually ignored at 1:24 am.  

I have half a mind to pick up a book instead. The other half is considering throwing the internet router in a pail of water. The shot glass was pitiful in its unemployment, and nobody else noticed.