I mean, if you had a really great show you definitely deserve to celebrate it. Especially if you went all the way to Atlanta, as a big time celebrity, whose name even made it onto the marquee of the Rialto and all the kids were excited to see you host their big regional dance competition. And you debuted a few bits, like Ellen and The Bhangra Song. And the kids were lining up for your t-shirts and autographs. I mean, that’s a successful night. But it doesn’t mean you have to get all incapacitated with a bunch of Punjabis you don’t even know because of some pot brownie that got “gifted” to you by some high Guju kid, only to have white EMT’s answer your door when you have no pants on while the Black hotel manager shakes his head in disappointment, and the Chinese doctor snickers under his breath because he’s feeding you an IV drip full of h2O. You know? There’s a better way to say, “Yes, I did a good job. I am talented and I work hard.” Irie.