Draft

Loud thuds echoed through the home as Carlo stomped up the stairs to his room, screaming as he slammed the door behind him.  I chuckled along with the rest of his family as his father yelled after him in his Italian accent, “Carlo, you could be an actor!”.  Carlo and I were going to the disco that night.  The place was that we would arrive there at midnight, and return around seven in the morning.  His parents had arranged a ride for us, but Carlo desperately wanted to drive me their on his motorcycle.  Being an outside perspective I could clearly see the flaws in Carlo’s plans of transportation, especially since there would be drinking at the disco.  But he was blinded by his emotions, only seeing what he wanted and shutting out any outside logic or reasoning.