I met some friends at a German beer garden for a drink on Saturday afternoon, but the place was so loud we had to shout across the table to talk so we went to another place. It was a trendy rooftop that outclassed us, but it wasn't busy on a beautiful afternoon, plus I'd never seen Point Special in cans at a bar in Brooklyn, so we ordered a few and took a seat. Trouble was that my one friend didn't seem to realize that we didn't have to yell across the table to be heard anymore, so everyone in a 20-foot radius could hear his side of the conversation. He was talkative, so I steered the conversation towards Space Camp (where I knew he'd gone). So, to everyone around me that Saturday, sorry for the grown man yelling about how everyone on his mission died because he forgot to close the bay doors while landing. No one really died. He was just having Space Camp flashbacks.