In one sense, this is a story about Dan Wham. Dan Wham deals with “all of the real estate in Delaware.” Dan Wham likes “all types of music.” Dan Wham splits a cab with me and my girlfriend after Florida Georgia Line and Nelly headline the BB&T Pavilion in Camden, New Jersey on a Saturday night in June. He takes us to a bar in Philadelphia, just over the Delaware River. He tells us that Philadelphia 76er and giant basketball man Joel Embiid will probably be there. He refers to him simply as “Joel.”
Joel is there. He is in the restroom.
“Trust The Process,” shouts one restroom user.
“Legacy, my ass,” shouts another.
“While I’m pissing?” Embiid responds, pissing.
Soon after, I meet one of Dan Wham’s friends. (“He’s from London,” Dan Wham shouts, pointing at me, over the Seinfeld theme that’s inexplicably coming from the DJ’s speakers). This new friend insists on buying me his favorite shot from the bar, something minty, but the bar is out of that, so he comes back with three ounces of tequila and thrusts the glass into my hand. Dan Wham wants us to smoke weed and drink some more at his apartment after, but it’s 1 AM, I don’t smoke weed, and I can’t stand up now anyway. It’s a shame. Florida Georgia Line and Nelly would have wanted me to stay up and smoke a little, drink a little, spend some time with the boys, hang with guys like Dan Wham.
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