A LOVE LETTER to The Pre-Game

Dear Pregame,

You’ve carried more nights than you get credit for.

Technically, you’re not even the event.

You’re just where everyone meets before it.

But we’ve all spent $80 on a ticket just to realize three hours later..

we were having more fun at the crib.

So this is for you.

THANK YOU FOR GETTING THE NIGHT STARTED.

The party starts at midnight.

Everyone pulls up at eight.

Someone brought a bottle.

Someone brought absolutely nothing.

Someone has control of the speaker and is taking the responsibility way too seriously.

Half the room is ready.

The other half hasn’t even showered.

Nobody knows when we’re leaving.

Nobody seems particularly concerned.

We got time.

We absolutely do not.

THANK YOU FOR THE AUX.

The most powerful position in the room.

One bad selection and people start asking:

“Who put this shit on?”

One good selection and suddenly everyone is yelling.

Someone wants house.

Someone wants rap.

Someone keeps sneaking songs into the queue.

Someone is playing a track nobody else knows and insisting:

“DOG JUST WAIT FOR THE DROP.”

Sometimes they’re right.

Most of the time they should’ve kept that one for the car.

Either way, the night has officially started.

THANK YOU FOR THE CONVERSATIONS THAT MAKE ABSOLUTELY NO

SENSE THE NEXT DAY.

There’s always one.

Everybody is standing around talking shit and suddenly the room is debating

something nobody cared about ten minutes ago.

Could you beat a kangaroo in a fight?

Would you rather have $10 million or restart your life at 10 years old?

Could everyone in this room successfully rob a bank?

No.

But apparently we’re discussing it for 35 minutes.

Then the song changes and nobody ever mentions it again.

THANK YOU FOR DESTROYING THE SCHEDULE.

At some point, somebody checks the time.

“Yo. We gotta go.”

Nobody moves.

Ten minutes later:

“NO, ACTUALLY. WE HAVE TO GO.”

Now somebody can’t find their phone.

Someone needs another drink.

Someone disappeared onto the balcony.

The Uber is two minutes away.

Nobody is downstairs.

The driver cancels.

Fair enough.

Order another one.

THANK YOU FOR THE NIGHTS THAT NEVER MADE IT PAST YOU.

Sometimes nobody goes anywhere.

The tickets exist.

The reservation exists.

The plan definitely existed.

But the music is good.

Everybody’s there.

Nobody wants to leave.

And eventually somebody finally says what the entire room has been thinking:

“Fuck it. Why are we going?”

And that’s it.

The pregame has successfully overthrown the main event.

Respect.

MOSTLY, THANK YOU FOR BEING THE PART WE REMEMBER.

The actual night can turn into flashes.

The entrance.

The bathroom.

A few songs.

Someone disappearing.

Finding them again.

Going home.

But somehow the apartment before it stays clear.

Everybody was still together.

Nobody was tired yet.

Nobody had lost their phone.

Nobody was trying to figure out where everyone went.

And whatever was going to happen hadn’t happened yet.

The entire night was still ahead.

So, Pregame,

Thank you for the aux battles.

The bottles on the counter.

The balcony conversations.

The friend who said they weren’t coming and pulled up anyway.

The Uber drivers we owe an apology to.

And every time you were supposed to be the thing before the night

and ended up being the best part of it.

Love,

We’ll leave in five.