Stanley Strikes Out

Funny story: So last weekend I'm at this upper-Eastside nightclub with my girls. We're taking shots, attempting to dance to whatever horrid music they were playing, when I spot the DJ booth in the corner, unattended. My "Slave 4 U" Britney request had gone ignored, and Prince is not my thing. So I climb up the ladder to the booth, put on the headphones and attempt to decipher the buttons and switches. In my head I'm thinking, now how can I switch the music from whatever shit they're playing to Britney Spears without anyone noticing? It seemed perfectly logical at the time. I press an important-looking red button and BAM! The music stops, and everyone pauses mid-dance move and stares up at the DJ booth. Face flushed and jaw dropped, I frantically throw off the headphones and scurry down the ladder. Too late. Two bouncers grabbed me by each arm and escorted me out as I cried, "But I just wanted to hear Britney Spearssss!" They weren't having it. And so I got kicked out of a New York nightclub. In the words of Shaggy: It wasn't me. It was Stanley.