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Night Spies

We are at First Fridays at the MCA.

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This was my first time here. I wish they'd had white zinfandel, which is my beverage of choice. Instead I was fucked-up on chardonnay--that's ten times more fucked-upness. I was blackoutful. The music was fabulous on the first floor, but why was I the only one dancing? I had these passes, so my friends and I left to go to the DuSable Museum for this concert, which had already started. I come into that place like I'm the Mack Daddy of the party. I'm like, "Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy," and I'm hittin' on everybody. They were some very uptight, bougie black folks--not my type of black folks, let me just say that. My two friends go in ahead of me and later they tell me they heard this commotion in the back. They look out and see the security guards holding onto me and I'm like, "I ain't gonna sit down." I'm dissin' loud as hell. They take me outside and I see this guy in a truck and I ask, "Can I use your cell phone?," and it turns out we have a friend in common. Then my girl comes out and says to the guy in the truck, "Can you take her home?" He says fine and I cussed his ass the whole time for no reason, at which point he said, "Get out of the fuckin' car." I was a serial killer with that wine--maybe next time they'll have zinfandel.

--Aisha Mays, art director

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