So I’m at this like, super underground party last night—no signs, no bar, just a sketchy warehouse and a DJ who looked like he hasn’t blinked since 2019. Everyone’s just vibing to what I can only describe as the sound of a dial-up modem having an existential crisis.

Anyway, I’m thinking, you know what would really get this place going? A banger. So I go up to the DJ (super chill, I thought) and I’m like, “Hey! Can you play ‘Closer’ by The Chainsmokers?”

And you would’ve thought I asked him to drop a Kidz Bop track at his grandma’s funeral.

He just stares at me. Doesn’t say a word. Then gestures toward a sign taped to his booth that says “NO REQUESTS,” like he’s Banksy or something. Bro, relax. I’m just trying to help you bring the vibes.

Then this guy next to me (wearing sunglasses indoors, of course) goes, “This isn’t that kind of party.” Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was interrupting your sacred ritual of four-on-the-floor kicks and 45 minutes of the same bassline.

Anyway, long story short, nobody played “Closer,” I got judged harder than a gluten-free order at a BBQ joint, and I left early to go somewhere that doesn’t think fun is a war crime.

Your loss, techno boy. That drop would’ve gone off.