• Beanie: Check
• Striped long-sleeve shirt to go under my pastel yellow t-shirt: Check
• Khakis rolled all the way up to my knees: Check
• Wallet chain connecting my Marlboro Reds pack to my pants: Check (no wallet cause I spent all my money on cigarettes so what’s the point of carrying one)

“God I look so good” I say to myself as I squat-pose for a fit pic in my sick Echo Park Airbnb (paid for by my friend Sky’s mom).

Frank is going to go crazy when he sees me in this, I just know it.

There’s no way he’s not the secret guest. It’s absolutely got to be him. He’s given no indication it’s him which is all the proof I need that it’s definitely him, right? He wouldn’t let me down like I let down that one girl that I got to buy me a Stig and then ghost her, right?

I show up to Camp Flog Gnaw and it was great. Seeing Clairo, Brockhampton, and Juice Wrld was a movie dude. I had to leave the YG and Goldlink show early though, their music kind of made me nervous, not sure why. 

It’s almost time for what I’ve been waiting for. It’s nearly five hours until Frank is supposed to play, I need to make my way to the stage now. I’m hungry but I’m hopeful that I can survive off this Juul juice and my nicotine addiction will carry me through this.  

Sure the festival has been going on for hours now and sure someone just tweeted a picture of Frank enjoying a nice evening in, reading a book and having some tea in NYC, but there’s still a possibility it’s him, right? The artist who’s notorious for cancelling shows that he’s booked for, let alone mystery shows, will surely show!

Tyler asks the special guest to come out. I am peaking right now. I’m yelling “Boy toy suck me like a Hoover” at the top of my lungs. My behavior is making the girls around me even more uneasy than I normally do. Every girl just looked at my outfit and covered their drinks within a 20 foot radius of me, not sure what that’s about. 

wait………Did he just say Drake?

This is not the wildly popular black artist that sings and raps that I had unrealistic expectations to come out. Drake’s so soft. What is he going to do, play one of his songs about unrequited love or him calling a girl to try to convince her to give him a chance? HAHA so lame, Frank would never.

Sure he’s playing all his hits that I know every word to and add in my private Spotify playlists but… AUBREY? Really? The deadbeat dad? (Siri set a reminder to pay my child support and change my baby moms name to “do not answer”). 

I can’t cope with this. All I can do is sad-cry-dance to Feel No ways like that tik-tok pre-teen while trying to remain stoic in a sea of bucket hats.

After about seven or so songs, one hero in a Thrasher shirt did what every dude in a Thrasher shirt wanted to do. “BOOOOOO BOOOOO” This man was our Jon Snow. He united all of the people, Guess striped shirt to Flower Boy shirts to Vlone t-shirts, all against our common enemy, Aubrey Graham. All of us that are similarly dressed start to boo him and tell him to leave. As expected of the soft boy he is he leaves, probably back to his suburb, loser. *Siri follow up reminder to text Sky for the lockbox code to the Airbnb*

We did it. We won. This was probably a test. This is what Frank and Tyler wanted us to do, isn’t it? Can’t wait to see Frank and Tyler walk out and spit on Drake on his way out and tell us how proud they are of us.