I should have listened to my Rachel Zoe style book and gone overdressed. Showing up at Off the Grid at The Wexner Center for the Arts in ripped jeans was my first mistake. Everybody there was dressed to kill and ready for their close-up.
I should have listened to my Rachel Zoe style book and gone overdressed.
Showing up at Off the Grid at The Wexner Center for the Arts in ripped jeans was my first mistake. Everybody there was dressed to kill and ready for their close-up.
Except for me, of course.
I grabbed an OYO cocktail to ease my nerves, but I should have just turned on my camera. As soon as it was in my hand, everyone I passed started voguing. "Blue Steel" was being thrown around like dollar bills at a strip club.
I finished the OYO, and made my way past the elbow-rubbing elites to the art gallery. The people throwing Blue Steel were missing out, the real party was in the auditorium.
The siren song of Olivia Newton-John pulled us into the dark auditorium where DJ Cosmo Baker was practically making the speakers bleed with fun dance tunes I forgot I loved. Everyone was relaxed and just feeling the music. This is what a dance party should be. Though I'm not sure how "off the grid" a party at the largest campus in the United States can be, the event was executed extremely well. I left actually wishing we could have stayed longer.
If wearing jeans was my first mistake, parking in the Ohio Union garage was my second.
I wish I would have known the sold-out Schoolboy Q concert let out at the same time. The entire garage was bumper-to-bumper with no signs of moving. For 30 straight minutes not a single car budged. Somebody a few levels up screamed, "For Christ's sake I just want to leave!" He spoke for us all.
To add insult to injury, "The Thong Song" echoed throughout the garage from somebody's car stereo. "I guess Sisqo gets to eat people food this week," my boyfriend said.
My boyfriend went to investigate. It turns out the hold-up was caused by some kid who couldn't figure out how to pay the machine for parking. Rather than lifting the gate, the parking attendant called her boss, who everyone got to wait for while Sisqo fueled our silent rage.