Stride of Pride

I've been having a blast since yesterday talking with my mafia of friends about the walk of shame. Or as we like to call it, the stride of pride, typical of your 20s. Yeah, you know it, don't pretend like you don't. The "journey" home at the crack of dawn after spending a night out partying. Yes, that's the one. Runny mascara, heels in hand, a shirt worn as a dress that now everyone stares at. Daylight is your enemy, for a brief moment you feel like a vampire. It's tattooed on your forehead in big, bold letters: "I didn't make it home last night". You wish you had some sunnies and a cap, or something else to disguise you, and you look around to avoid anyone you know....