One Hundred and Thirty Six

Dripping wet, it looked like we'd pissed ourselves to the general public, after all, it was a dry night. Little did they know the secrets. The stairs folded down and up we went. Scutters floor-bound below could not observe said wetness at height. By the time all was dry, we were joining hotel prom parties and crawling through taxi's. Oscar Wilde then departed and our night still excelled in brilliance.