The first thing I noticed when the call connected was the sound of birds chirping in the background.
Picture this: I’m cooped up in my baseme- studio, my home studio. The crazy back-and-forth weather in New York City has me congested and nasally. I’m furiously praying that nothing goes wrong. Technology always tends to go crazy when I need to do something important. My mixer and laptop are taunting me, almost. They can be so temperamental.
I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t nervous for this call. I had been following DJ Puffy since the beginning. I’ve watched his entry video from Barbados dozens of times. I even tuned into the world championships – just to see his set – in the middle of exams week from my phone in my dorm room. This was the closest I’d ever been to the DJ legends, all thanks to a shot-in-the-dark Facebook message.
I’m frantically checking my mic and making sure the Skype call is recording. First impressions matter, and I’m about to bomb mine.
The call connects and I’m instantly taken across the world. The birds chirping bring back vivid memories of Barbados, and the last time I had visited. I can instantly picture the celebrity on the other end of the line, chilling out on a veranda with a laptop in front of him. It almost reminds me of the days when my parents used to Skype with family back home in Trinidad. It’s like…Wait, he answered! Crap! This is happening! I-
“H-hello?” I stammer.
“Bro! What’s good?”
Whoa. Wasn’t expecting that.
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