although i’ve complained recently that my friends are only getting into lame things like trading card games or rock climbing, i do have one friend who has been getting into djing lately (in addition to trading card games and rock climbing). he’s my most “serious” friend, bringing a certain intensity to anything he partakes in, so in just a few short months he’s already gotten in deep, putting together killer sets and purchasing a lot of expensive equipment like a full professional speaker setup. the only thing he’s lacking is gigs to play, a problem with one obvious solution: just host your own. luckily, i also have a good venue ready to go, my basement, a large rectangular blank slate that has been laying fallow, waiting for some new and exciting function ever since i'd spent most of the last summer cleaning it out (when i wasn't away, that is). the plan was simple, we’d invite everyone we possibly knew to try and pack the basement for a bunch of photos making my friend look like he was already a really popular hype dj, which could then be used to get his foot in the door at local clubs, a classic “fake it till you make it” strategy. unfortunately (as with many things) skill has little to do with getting gigs, it's largely down to popularity and networking.

once the plan to host a dj party was in motion, another friend who frequently plays the role of a hypeman supporting projects got involved too, using his craftiness to create an entire visual show to go along with the music. he spent a lot of time DIYing four tall light poles, and then combined with some lasers, a fog machine, a tv with a VHS camera feed, and a short-throw projector projecting onto the wall, he managed to put together quite the display. along with my friend's dj setup (controller and computer on a black-tableclothed folding table flanked by two speakers on stands, with a subwoofer hidden beneath the table), it really made the basement feel like an underground club.

our first trial event went smoothly: the beats were sick, the lights were incredible, the "venue" well-equipped. the only problem was that nobody outside the core group, aka "the boys", showed up. everyone had stretched their social networks to the absolute limits, inviting coworkers and classmates they barely knew, but nobody came who we didn’t all know closely. the only stranger to me was a korean guy from the math department invited by my dj friend because he was also a dj, when i introduced myself as the host he asked a few awkward questions like “why do you have a north korean flag?” (don’t worry, we’re cool now).

even though we managed to get like 10-15 people show up, the basement dance floor was big enough that it still felt a little sparse with everyone on it, and of course everyone wasn’t always on the dance floor, people took breaks or just wanted to hang out and talk (it also didn’t help that my friend wanted to do a marathon four-hour straight dj set for his first-ever gig). the thing is, it’s also hard to get an inactive dance floor started up again since nobody wants to dance alone, so to keep things moving all the time you need enough people to show up for multiple full dancefloor “shifts”. that was our takeaway during the post-mortem, everything was perfect except for the attendance, if only we could get the word out, we were sure people would love it if they would just give us a chance. we resolved to not host another event unless we were sure that we had a good chance of a solid turnout.

our big opportunity came around several months later, during a weekend without any big dj events scheduled. my dj friend had been busy during those months making inroads within the local scene, he’d even played a “real” gig at a club. he decided now was the time to strike and convinced three other djs, including the korean guy from before, to play at my house that weekend. it was going to be just like an event at the club, we had a roster of four djs playing hour-long sets each, and my crafty friend even designed a professional-looking poster to promote it online. but the real hope was that involving other djs would pull their friends/fans in as well, if each of the other djs could get ten of their friends to show up like my dj friend had done for his solo gig at my place, then we’d be doing quite well for ourselves.

leading up to the event, everything was looking good, i spent some time tidying up plus we already had practice setting everything up from the “trial run”, my mom was out of town so we could go later and louder, and the weather was getting better. there was only one teeny-tiny problem: my crazy brother. mirroring the shift in the seasons, he had just transitioned from being reclusive and depressive into a delusional manic state, possessed by demonic energy making him roam the house all hours of the day fiddling with stuff and making a mess, generally being a nuisance. after not sleeping for three straight days, he became increasingly incoherent and was eventually convinced to go to the emergency room, where after a nerve-wracking drive (he tried to crawl out the window at one point) and a bit of a “scene” or “security incident” in the lobby, he was escorted into the back by four burly security goons to cool his heels for a few days on an involuntary mental health hold. this was very good news because according to my interpretation of the arcane hold duration rules this meant that they would hold him through the weekend and thus the dj party, so we’d have nothing to worry about. but of course they couldn’t do me this one solid and ended up releasing him the day before the party, when it felt like it was already too late to cancel, so i foolishly decided to proceed with the possibility of my brother causing an incident hanging over my head. at the very least he seemed to be in a good mood after release, still sedated by various medications, and when i warned him about the party he had no objections, announcing his intention to be out of town by then anyway. but as the party drew near he didn’t seem to be leaving, his stated travel plans appearing somewhat unrealistic (an A220 private jet flight to paris for “only” $220,000), and as usual he took nothing he had been prescribed nor did he sleep that night, so his condition was deteriorating by the hour...

preparations in earnest began a couple hours before the show, when the djs showed up to set up. during this time, my brother kept to himself upstairs and i almost managed to forget about him as i got absorbed in getting everything ready. my dj friend had put the korean guy in charge of sound, a role he took almost too seriously considering that this was pretty much a glorified house party. he showed up with a ton of fancy equipment, including an enormous dj controller with its own case and attached screen, and spent approximately an hour pacing the room taking measurements with some sort of decibel meter and fiddling with knobs on a mysterious sound control box he’d also provided. meanwhile, i busied myself with preparing the garage as a chill hangout zone: parking the cars in the driveway, setting up a bunch of camping chairs, dragging out the minifridge, filling a cooler with ice for the BYOB, making a trash bin out of a big cardboard box, stocking the bathroom with hygienic supplies, putting an ashtray just outside in the driveway. i had no moneymaking schemes this time around, it was all purely out of Love of the Game, though if the event proved to be a success maybe next time...

after a sound and light check that only tripped the breaker once, we turned off all the lights and the first dj went on according to schedule. i donned a $5 wool blazer i got at st. vinnie’s (never underestimate the power of a cool coat) and stationed myself at the entrance (the open garage door) to welcome attendees in my capacity as Host, sipping the exact same kirkland signature boxed pinot grigio i had been drinking during the backyard shed concert several years ago. nobody ever shows up for a party on time, though, so it took some time before people started slowly trickling in. after thirty minutes i grew a little concerned, so far the only people to show up were the Usual Suspects, that is to say the boys. the first dj was shredding but there were only a handful of people on the dance floor, namely myself (watching the entrance got boring), my dj friend, another friend, and the other djs, who were mostly standing by the walls tapping their phones, hopefully working hard to try and get the word out.

then, somebody said they spotted headlights outside, so i rushed back into the garage to usher in the first strangers to arrive, a nerdy guy wearing an evangelion shirt (asuka, btw) and his girlfriend. he spotted a pop’n music controller in a corner of the garage (along with other more notable, uh, paraphernalia) and we discussed that for a few minutes, until i was drawn away by the first big group to arrive. from then on things snowballed quickly as word got out about the popping house party, before long i couldn’t keep up with all the groups showing up. i stayed in the garage chatting up the new arrivals, things turning into a blur as i rapidly depleted the critically-low stores of boxed wine. i talked for a while with a group of international math students that the korean guy had invited, including some swedish guys heading to california the next week, to whom i stressed the importance of visiting in-n-out burger. supplies of alcohol were desperately low, when they asked if anyone had any beers a sleazy guy who had just offered to sell me ketamine (not on the spot, he was just collecting leads) sold them 5 michelob ultras for $20 (as the host, i got one for free). the attendance was surprisingly cosmopolitan, groups of girls even started to show up, including a colombian girl who barely spoke english that started feeling sick partway through and wanted to leave early, which led to her trying to extract the house address for an uber from my dj friend during his set, in the middle of a song transition no less. the place started to get packed, maybe 30-40 people around, and somebody raved to me that the party was “such an eighties throwback, like a classic parents-out-of-town house party”.

suddenly, somebody in a bright-brown tactical vest cut through the crowds shouting some gibberish. my brother! i had completely forgotten. i reacted immediately, primal event organizer instincts cutting through the drunken haze, dragging him back upstairs as he tried to yell “PARTY’S OVER GET OUT OF HERE” (thankfully drowned out by the music). safely isolated from the party, i talked with him and tried to get a read on him. it seemed like he’d suddenly turned strongly against the party, demanding that everyone leave immediately, which even if i had wanted to do was not such an easy task now with the amount of people that had come. his tune was a lot different from earlier, when he’d disappeared upstairs while sarcastically wishing me good luck with my “lame” party, i don’t think he’d expected it to pop off this hard when he gave his tacit approval. eventually he stormed back off to his room, though one of my friends stayed stationed at the stairs as the “bouncer” as it seemed like things with him were far from being resolved.

back downstairs, i fell right back into the groove socializing with attendees, this time outside in the driveway over some smokes. right when i’d almost managed to forget, one of my friends came up and informed me that there was a Situation, my brother had reappeared. i headed back up the stairs and confronted him again. this time he was inconsolable, outraged that the party had continued despite his earlier demands. after engaging him in several minutes of unproductive debate, during which he disputed the legality of hosting the party in the house since it was a "consulate", he charged the gathered members of the Party Defense Force holding some sort of syringe (i had hidden all the knives earlier), and my bouncer friend (former high school football player) tackled and held him a light hold for a few seconds, not too difficult because my brother is pretty weak from rarely leaving his room, despite the 20% buff from insane manic energy that comes from the mind totally unleashing the body. when my friend let him go, he slumped to the floor and laid there like a corpse for several minutes, it was a little eerie. then, he sprang up like nothing ever happened and slunk back to his room.

this time, though, i was not letting my guard down. i had heard some rumors people had noticed something was going on and were leaving, so i stayed guarding the stairs, nothing could be allowed to compromise the party. when he came back a little later, i was there to meet him and barricade the way. even in the face of his crazy energy, i was unflappable, invincible, the cool coat shielded my body and the wine my mind. but most of all, i felt the Event Organizer’s High and was operating at absolute peak performance. i stuck zealously to our sacred creed: The Show Must Go On. down below, the party was reaching truly mythical proportions, nobody knew for sure but numbers as high as 70 or 100 were thrown around later, easily the largest we’ve ever thrown, let alone been to. for the sake of all the partygoers, i would make the ultimate sacrifice and not participate in it, throwing myself on a live grenade to protect everyone. so, i stuck to my brother like glue, keeping him upstairs and occupied by engaging him in arguments, effortlessly soaking up half a dozen punches from him (in my drunken state, my body absorbed them like jelly), standing my ground as he ripped my beloved $5 temu sunglasses from my face and snapped them in half or as he tried to put me under arrest with a pair of handcuffs, saying he was a “US marshal”. eventually, i had stalled long enough that the party started wrapping up, and he retreated to his bedroom for the final time, worn out.

but there was still the problem of the Handcuffs. during the aforementioned “arrest” i had let my guard down and carelessly allowed him to close one manacle over my right wrist. i hadn't fought it as hard as i could have because i had assumed they were those fake toy handcuffs you could easily unlock with a screwdriver or the like. the coast being clear, i got a screwdriver and tried to work the lock, but it didn’t seem to be working. maybe i was just too drunk, so i had my crafty friend consult on the matter. evidently i had underestimated my brother because my friend inspected the cuffs and said “bro, my dad is a cop and these are REAL handcuffs, you are NOT getting these off yourself”. to make matters worse, when i saw him again a few minutes later, he motioned to me to bring the cuffs closer to him as though for another inspection, and when i did he slapped the other manacle closed around the handle of a briefcase! apparently my other friend had bet him $20 he wouldn’t do it, and now they were both guffawing maniacally, “i can’t believe you actually did it!”. so now i had to go around dragging a briefcase from my wrist too, though after a few minutes he somewhat made it up to me by sawing through the handle of the briefcase and thus returning me to the original predicament. at least we got some funny pictures out of the whole affair...

trying somewhat to casually conceal the cuffs around my right wrist, i headed downstairs and bid farewell to the last party attendees and the djs, who by this time were packing up and heading out. once everyone left, bouncer friend offered to drive me somewhere to see if we could get the cuffs off. i wasn’t that tired and definitely not looking forward to trying to sleep with my wrist clamped by the cold metal, so i agreed. we didn't really know where to go, so defaulted to the emergency room. i brought along a little barrel of barley tea i’d been taking swigs from all night (stay hydrated), and while driving managed to spill a bunch in my lap in a pattern that managed to look exactly like i’d pissed my pants. but i was still decently drunk and wearing the cool coat so i was invincible, confidently striding into the emergency room at 2:00 am and regaling everybody waiting with a brief recounting of my present half-cuffed circumstances, in a "wait, wait, let me explain, it isn't what it looks like"-type manner. the reception lady said she’d look into it and talked with someone on the phone for a few minutes, after which she informed me that there was nothing they could do. we then headed off to what seemed like the next best option, the cop shop. in the vestibule i spoke with a disembodied voice on a speaker about my situation, and it said that someone would be sent down to have a look. before long, a friendly young cop came down and the cuffs answered to his keys, coming right off. as he looked over them i briefly explained what had happened, he commented that the cuffs were surprisingly heavy-duty and wondered how my brother had gotten his hands on them. i made my way back to the car where my friend was surprised to see that the gambit had worked, he had spent the whole time researching emergency all-hours locksmiths and it was NOT looking good. i accepted an offer to stay that night at his place, instead of going back home where there was a risk i might get wrapped up in my brother's antics again.

when we arrived back at the house in the morning, i was astounded to discover that the basement and garage were almost pristine, a quick once-over with a mop or vacuum and then you’d never be able to tell that like a hundred people had passed through just hours ago. everybody had been surprisingly respectful, there wasn’t a single stray piece of trash or empty can, everything was neatly put away in either the cardboard trash box or the designated can bin (now filled to the brim with empties). the only thing that was off was that something incomprehensible had been spraypainted in black across the door from the garage to the house, exactly the kind of thing you might expect to see after a rowdy house party, though i knew the culprit had to be my brother because it hadn’t been there before i had left him alone in the house. i went upstairs and discovered that over the course of the night, my brother had basically trashed the rest of the house, dragging random stuff out and spreading it all over. it was funny in a way, over the course of the night working alone he had managed to make a way worse mess than a hundred people had.

later, when my friends stopped by to pick up the remaining dj and lighting equipment, we debriefed about the party. the friend who set up the lighting raved about it, partway through the night he’d abdicated his position at the computer controlling the visuals and got wasted, spending the night chatting people up in the driveway and also handcuffing that briefcase to my wrist. he said that if i had been down there i would have loved it. my dj friend, on the other hand, complained that during his techno set there somehow still weren’t enough people on the dancefloor, everyone just wanted to hang out in the garage or driveway vibing, and that he felt bad for the first dj who had to play to an almost empty room despite how many people ended up coming in the end. for my part, i lamented how tantalizingly close we had been to the perfect party, how flawless it would have been with the removal of just one single element, how this was further proof that we live in a fallen world, nothing can ever go perfectly, something ALWAYS has to go wrong. on the other hand, i suppose i would never have any stories to tell if everything always went perfectly...