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To all my fans in Chicago,
"I am truly sorry for what has occurred the last time I was in town. I am more shocked than anything. I arrive at the airport, only to find out I have a cab ready, and how I find this out? There is a guy at the terminal with a La Quinta sing with my last name on it" I have no clue what's going on, so I contact my manager, he's not picking up. I get in the cab, and the guy takes me to LA QUINTA it felt like we drove for hours. Come to find out he drops me off in a hotel 45 minutes away from the city. I did not know what to say, but I knew how much many of you were waiting for me to come out. The night of the party I get picked up by a few guys, who apologize to me for what has happened. I really did not care at that point, and just wanted to go on with the show. I arrive at the club late night, only to find out I have to spot the driver 15$ for parking. WHAT??????
I finally get inside only to be escorted by 2 guys into a back room, where I guess a promoter is waiting for me. Why is it every guy in Chicago acts like they are from California, but talks like they are from Compton. After I witness this mass colague of printed hats tiled to the right I end up in the DJ booth. Not only does my monitor has no sound, in my head phones I can hear the VIP room and someone screaming over the mic "yeah yeah chi town, gotta luv that houze music" This is going on for a good hour, and for some reason I assumed it was my cologne, but there is 16 guys standing next to me, some with tennis wrist bands, some with a headphones, licking their golden tips. I though they were up next and it was time for me to go, but somebodywhispered that they are only posing for myspace pics, and actually non of them spin. And what's up with he peace signs I am not even taking pictures, I know it's insecurities, but I am not trying to start a war, why the peace signs every time I turn around? It finally comes for me to end the show, just to get what I am owed and move on. The promoters take me to the back, and try to pay me in lines of blow...Seriously!!!!! 3 lines of blow on a dj case, and they point to the little one. I keep telling them, that this cannot go on, that this is not right..and all of a sudden a spikey haired guy runs out with oxygen tanks, and blasts a few sprays in my face and screams out "THIS IS CHICAGO, THIS HOW WE DO!!!!"
Never again,
Erick Morillo
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