SOUTH END — Standing motionless in the deafening, sweat-slicked center of Gin Mill on a Saturday night, local 29-year-old corporate accountant Tyler Vance came to the stark, inescapable realization that he has grown far too fucking old for this shit.
“At first, I thought the rooftop would be better, but it was just the exact same mass of 22-year-olds bathed in purple light,” said Vance. “Around 11:15 PM, a guy wearing a reverse-retro jersey who was born in 2004 bumped into me, spilled half a Vodka Red Bull on my boots, and screamed ‘LET’S GO!’ directly into my eardrum. That was the exact moment my knees told me to leave.”
Vance, who reportedly paid a cash cover just to be shoved into a wall of human heat near the back stairs, spent the better part of two hours wedged between a structural support beam and the line for the bathroom while holding his arms in a tight, defensive cross.
“Tyler just kind of migrated to the brick wall near the patio door and froze,” said long-time friend Jaden Miller, 26. “Every time the bass dropped, he just pulled out his phone to check if his fantasy football waivers had cleared or if Harris Teeter opened at 6:00 AM. He had the hollow eyes of a man who realized he hasn’t successfully flirted over a DJ playing a loud remix since 2021.”
Sources close to Vance indicate he is already drafting a message to the group chat explaining why he is strictly a “Workman’s Friend patio guy” from here on out.
