How Our Weekends Now Have Zero Chill


How Our Weekends Now Have Zero Chill

Illustration: Arati Gujar


ast weekend, I found myself in the middle of a party that I had not signed up for. I’d gone to a classmate’s bachelorette, expecting to have a good time. But what started innocently enough as a catch up of life updates yelled at each other over deafening music, devolved into a nightmare of the kind where people’s mouths are forcibly filled with tequila. A guy on the verge of puking downed yet another shot while a girl kept pulling her too-high friend onto the dance floor. Within no time, the place had turned into a drunken battleground of uncoordinated limbs and spaced-out faces that partied on relentlessly, compulsively, until everyone succumbed to the sickness.

In a nutshell, it was a weekend that had no chill.