It is a magical night. You hop out of the shower. Maybe you spikes up one’s hair Jacob Geiser style. Then you throw on some deodorant and make sure you provide those pits with a plethora of that stuff because you know you are going to be getting down later. You put on that sweet tux you got from Brogan and Hesketh, or an overpriced one down at Pepe’s. Regardless of where the suit was rented, you are destined to say a few James Bond lines in the mirror.

After telling Dr. No that he is a bloody wanker or pretending your hosting the Oscars, you loads your pockets with mints and gum. Then you get into mom’s car because, well, it smells a bit nicer, and you are on the way to pick up that fine counterpart you secured back in March with some cheesy sign and a bag of sour patch kids. You text her that you’re here and take about forty years to get out of the car, prolonging the chance that she just runs out of the house and hops in shotgun of your whip. She doesn’t.

“Oh Sh*#, what do I do,” you say in your head when her dad opens the door. An awkward encounter takes place involving her father and yourself. After what seems like an eternity, you are finally away from the lady friend’s house and en route to dinner at your buddy’s house. “But what kind of music do I play?” You say in your head as you exit her driveway. Playing it safe is the move, and you throw on Q102, but a cheesy love song comes on and she thinks you are a weirdo.

Whatever, you make it to dinner with your boys and throw back a few waters and the mostaccioli that Johnny’s mom made and go out for some pictures. The whole neighborhood is gathered around watching, kids launch their scooters in the yard and whatnot. “The hood going dumby,” says Chance the Rapper in his song “Prom Night”. Are you Kim K on the red carpet? Hot damn, work it. It seems like Billy’s mom just threw a stun grenade at you with all those camera flashes. Finally, everyone gets in their respected cars and you leave. The convoy of young love processes out the hood and is on its way to the Newport Syndicate. It is Prom Night.