“Babe, I know you’re still pissed at me,” James said to Ally coyly while fidgeting with his Hublot timepiece in the middle of January. “I messed up—I shouldn’t have fucked that waitress from Tao the other night, even though you know Asians with a little bit of boob are totally my thing,” he uttered, almost implying his indiscretion was inevitable and potentially her fault. “But I figured out how I’m going to make it up to you.” He reached into his Tumi briefcase, and pulled out two tickets with the word “FYRE” across the middle. Her eyes lit up. The gift’s lavishness suggested that this incident of infidelity far outweighed his previous cases—blow jobs in nightclub bathrooms are like fist bumps these days, right? “Oh my God, BABE!” she exclaimed, blinded by the costly gesture that almost instantly righted his wrong.
Fyre Festival: a brand new two-weekend extravagant music festival positioned as the “Coachella of the Bahamas,” created by Ja Rule and Billy McFarland (the latter is a young, entrepreneur socialite; the former is Ja Rule). Tickets range from $1,000 to $12,000, with VIP packages nearing $250k. James was genuinely sorry that Ally discovered his Tao waitress rendezvous—not necessarily sorry for cheating, but sorry that she found out. He sprung for $5,000 tickets. The intersection of concerts and luxury, Fyre Festival was going to be the ideal way for James to remedy his unfaithfulness. Blink-182 and Migos, some of the festival’s most promising acts, are two of Ally’s all-time favorite groups—a prime marriage of her nostalgic music taste with her newfound vocational trap queen desire that’s inundated the basic bitches community.
Ally was born and raised in Short Hills, NJ. She was the social chair of AEPhi at Syracuse University where she majored in communications and minored in routine stomach pumps. She enjoys filming her daily walks with her Pomeranian around the Upper East Side while drinking a Unicorn Starbucks frappuccino for her Snapchat story. Hours are spent selecting the appropriate filter to deceive Ally’s followers by inflating her attractiveness. For all intents and purposes, she is basic.
James hails from Scarsdale, NY. When he wasn’t playing for the school’s tennis team, James would sell dime bags out of his father’s Mercedes to foster his entrepreneurial spirit, and claim an edginess that had always evaded his Jewish aesthetic and New Balance tennis sneakers. When he got cut from Union College’s tennis team, James double downed on drug dealing by widening his portfolio to include Xanax, prescribed to him by Dr. Newman—the trusted family shrink. For all intents and purposes, James is basic.
The days leading up to the concert were dwindling down. The winter’s icy grip was finally starting to loosen, allowing James to retire his Canada Goose jacket in exchange for his plush cashmere cardigan. The days ripping off the calendar further suppressed Ally’s memory of James’ “Asian with a little boob” infatuation and execution, positively reframing her unfaithful man as an upstanding member of society, or as the Jews would say, a real “mensch”. With pockets as deep as James’ (father), what’s a basic girl to do? Working at her uncle’s PR firm part time alone couldn’t keep the Unicorn Frapps flowing.
April 27th—the date of their departure—arrived quicker than James maneuvering his father’s Mercedes around Scarsdale’s winding roads while screaming out “LIT!” The allure and prestige of the impending trip more than amended their fragile relationship; James and Ally became the object of relationship envy amongst their friends: “Oh my gosh Sarah, James and Ally are more in-sync than Season 3 Ross and Rachel!”
James and Ally boarded their United flight from JFK to Miami—the waypoint between America and their relationship salvaging musical destiny. Ally tripled up on her YMCA Krav Maga classes before the flight in anticipation of forceful seat ejection resulting from an overbooked charter. She wasn’t going to be the subject of internet headlines and meme material—not today. Neck pillows formed to their napes, condensation showered the outside of their Bloody Mary’s, Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates started the in-flight entertainment. “Babe get in this snap selfie with me, ‘hashtag Bahamas here we come!’” The flight attendant’s incessant request for Ally to holster her phone impeded her typical two-hour Snapchat filtration process.
After touching down in Miami, reports of “unforeseen issues” affecting Fyre Festival began circulating. James and Ally were unfazed though, knowing that nothing could hamper their romantic getaway and magical pairing of Blink-182 and Migos. The three-hour layover was a prime opportunity for them to quickly visit Ally’s grandparents to refuel before their connecting flight. Two-pounds of Brisket and three mimosas are the unleaded gasoline equivalent for Jews. They were ready for the final leg of their trip.
So Fyre Fest is a complete disaster. Mass chaos. No organization. No one knows where to go. There are no villas, just a disaster tent city. pic.twitter.com/1lSWtnk7cA— William N. Finley IV (@WNFIV) April 27, 2017
Alas, they arrived in the Bahamas. James would finally be able to correct his infidelity by showing Ally the expensive life he (his father) could provide for her—images of unlimited Starbucks and Pomeranians looped her imagination once they touched down. However, the Fyre Festival scenery didn’t resemble the tropical musical getaway that the attractive promo video advertised. “Oh, so this is the Bahamas?” Ally said in an irritated tone. Ominous clouds crowded the sky, inhibiting the sun from illuminating the disastrous festival grounds: an unfinished campsite, mass confusion bordering hysteria, tents, and anger formulated Day 1 of Fyre Festival. The incomplete festival situation alluded to Ja Rule and Billy McFarland skipping several of their civil engineering classes en route to planning this event. “It’ll all work out,” they said as they laid out on their yacht decks (probably). A firm yet gentle hand on the shoulder, and a consoling “babe” from James temporarily comforted Ally. And then, they received the worse news possible: Blink-182 cancelled their performance due to sub-par production standards.
“My family didn’t survive Auschwitz for this!” Ally shrilled at a frequency only decipherable by dogs and Japs. The disarray was unfolding faster than James’ penis the night that predicated this trip. It was becomingly increasingly clear that the festival was not only improperly planned, but would not be happening at all. The promises of beautiful models, yachts, villas, gourmet food, and an unbeatable weekend on a remote Bahamian island were met with fraud and tears. A strangling feeling of claustrophobia began choking James and Ally, forcing them to wonder if this was the white Jewish version of Get Out. They desperately sought hospitality in any capacity.
This brand new two-weekend extravagant music festival positioned as the “Coachella of the Bahamas” in reality turned out to be an accurate representation of the country’s third-world status. Attendees were promised great food—they were given two slices of bread, two slices of cheese, and a few pieces of lettuce. Attendees were promised proper living accommodations—they were presented with a row of refugee-like tents. Attendees were promised adequate handling of their luggage—their bags were tossed out of a truck with zero regard for the contents. No, this was not the ideal romantic getaway that James had planned.
Chaos grew before it slowed, forcing the festival planners to evacuate everyone off the island, and cancel the inaugural Fyre Festival. Looks like Ja Rule’s event planning career crashed quicker than his music one—50 Cent did not take the high road. Waiting for the plane to depart, James apologized profusely to Ally for the ruined weekend. Surprisingly though, she wasn’t too upset with her hubby, knowing that he did everything he could to give Ally her dream of watching Blink-182 and Migos take the same stage. As the flight attendants prepared for takeoff, James noticed a busty Asian three rows behind them. “Easy James,” he whispered to himself.
The fourth showing of CBS’s Mike and Molly put Ally to sleep more effectively than her Ambien. James couldn’t help but look behind him at the busty Asian. Eye contact was established, exchanged lustrous looks transpired, eyebrows were arched. James looked back at her again, motioned towards the bathroom in front of them, looked at Ally to make sure she was asleep, and then once more at the busty Asian. James, you dog.
Turbulence jolted Ally out of her sleep, and reminded her of the three Bloody Mary’s swimming around in her bladder. She rushed to the bathroom to relieve herself. But relief was the last thing that she found when she opened the door to find James and yet another busty Asian joining the mile-high club. Busty Asians: Jewish men’s kryptonite.
“OH MY GOD, BABE!” Ally exclaimed.
Hopefully Fyre Festival 2018 is more successful than this year’s.