This is a piece I wrote for a journalism class at Boston University.
Jack Kelly perches on a stool in a dimly lit corner of McFadden’s, a popular downtown bar. The dance floor remains barren, but Kelly looks at ease from his seat in the DJ booth – the clock has yet to strike 10 and the night has only just begun.
Bracing himself for the hours ahead, Kelly has supplied his desolate corner with Red Bull and enough water to last until closing. He stares blankly at the deserted dance floor before him as he sits motionless while the latest track sequence plays. Alone with only his laptop and the pulsing beat from the speakers to keep him company, Kelly says he sometimes capitalizes on his alone time.
“I’ve written papers back here before,” he says.