WILSON GYM—Corporate America is tough, and as James (T’26) walks into Wilson to clock in for his self-proclaimed “eight-hour leg day” he queues the Rap Caviar playlist on Spotify. Nestled in the mix of Swedish House Mafia and Old Drake is a gleaming nugget of ethereal splendor, perfect for the quad bicep split: “Marea (we’ve lost dancing),” by Fred Again.
On his walk back from the gym, James scrolls through his Gary Vee camera roll folder and decides that he too needs to drop out of college and start building a business empire. He’ll always remember the encouraging words of “Complaining is a zero return investment” flashing at him on his lock screen behind the Amazon notification alerting him that his DJ set has arrived.
Only three days after the birth of James’ new hobby, his neighbor Grace Block (T ‘26) complains to their 3rd floor RA about the “incessant thumping and air horns.” Block’s roommate, Chase Brick (T’ 26) defeatedly states “he just won’t stop.”
James, to Grace and Chase’s dismay, has garnered intense support from his community of brothers who are all extremely involved in their respective frats but “aren’t like the other frat guys”. They gather in his room, crowded over his entry-level Pioneer set as he oscillates between Pepas and Heads Will Roll.
After weeks of bartering with Mama Morgan and Papa Stanley, James walks out onto Towerview Drive, waving goodbye to all his supporters and assault allegations. He pops on his silver Airpod Maxes, turns up Danielle (pull me out of this), and says to the Uber driver “take me to my empire.”