Look, I don’t want to be ageist or anything, but your late twenties are the golden hour for growing weary of «quirks» in the friend group, prime time for developing rare allergies to drama, posturing, and any new guy who thinks flexing his big boy muscles is a substitute for basic decency, especially on someone else’s dime. 

This group has nurtured a beautiful tradition: a classic annual cabin getaway, a sanctuary of inside jokes, mutual respect, and paying a little extra if you’d like your bedroom to have walls and dignity. Enter Ed, the newcomer, who apparently mistakes a group trip for the Hunger Games and believes the fastest way to make friends is by out-alpha-ing everyone else before he even unpacks his moisturizer.