It happened to me: I accidentally attended a crypto bro dinner

Two weeks ago, I walked into an upscale restaurant for a networking dinner. I was brand new to Miami, a city whose residents pride themselves on two-story strip clubs, too-orange spray tans and rented Ferraris.

Cue networking dinner.

I sprinted to a TJ Maxx and, not knowing anything about clothes, I put on the first thing in my size, threw my shorts and sandals into a plastic shopping bag, and returned to the restaurant anew.

Eric gave me a fist bump and then pointed to my seat next to a tall man wearing a blazer, who looked both nerdy and kind. Perhaps this man could be my new friend.

I turned to the attractive woman across the table. She appeared to be in her late 30s, had dark brown hair wound tightly in a bun, and wore an expensive-looking suit. Her name was Janine.

On all sides, trapped.

All around me, culty, shortsighted sheeple seem to yell at me, ordering me to buy digital Jpegs of apes or sell my children for two Ethereum.

Though I wanted to leave the dinner right there and then, I wanted to make friends even more. I soon realized that my role of ill-informed cynic who thinks all cryptopeople are incels who sit in dark basements using semi-clean spoons to eat out of ice cream cartons would only hold up for so long.

Goddamn it.

I hesitated.

I stared.

Impressive, I thought. Perhaps I should divert the conversation to finding out who did her botox.

Janine smiled.

The waiter arrived holding steak and cheesy pasta. I had worked up the courage to say something about dairy but the host, Eric, was walking over and I wanted to impress. I bit my tongue and accepted my pimpley fate.

I looked around to see if this sounded crazy to anyone else.

Discord is like Slack, but for people with no jobs.

I texted myself again: Watch the Bankless dudes.

But that was two weeks ago.