Chapter 2: WhizzAir’s Gig
Arriving in Dundalk, they parked up near Clanbrassil Street. Their mission was to see WhizzAir – not the airline, but Salty’s old mate, a DJ with neon hair and an attitude sharper than his beats. That night he was playing a gig at McKeown’s Bar.
They pushed through the crowded bar, the smell of hops and perfume mingling in the air. WhizzAir was up on the decks, bobbing his head, lost in the rhythm as purple and blue strobes lit up his set. Sarah and Susan danced close to Salty and Finji, their bodies swaying to the music, hair whipping under the lights.
“This is living,” Finji shouted over the bassline.
Salty nodded, sipping his pint of cider, watching the crowd move like waves under WhizzAir’s control. He thought to himself: Life is all about the road, the people you meet, and the beats that bring it all together.
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