And then in the club, he just got super-wasted. Like, he was paying for everybody’s drinks—I kept telling him he didn’t have to since he was my guest, but he was like: No, no, it’s all on me. I love this place! I love it!—and he was putting away like, five, six, maybe seven drinks within the first HOUR that we were there. I didn’t even know he LIKED drinking at all, you know, but here he was like, trying to shut the bar down.

And at a certain point, like, the club started playing “Love Hug”—you know, that song I made with Z a few years ago—and Oddvar just lost his shit. Like, he was treating it like it was the biggest coincidence in the world, and it was just like: Dude, this shit happens all the time. It’s not that big of a deal. But Oddvar was singing along to it and trying to dance with me and get me to sing along with it, and like, he was rapping all the words to Z’s part, and people were looking at him like: WTF? Patrick and Mo were watching him like HAWKS, you know? They just wanted to get rid of him.

And so when it came time for everyone to go home, me and Patrick and Mo had this little conference about what to do with Oddvar, and I mean, it wasn’t THAT late, but I think Z and his crew were kind of weirded out by the whole situation, and I was pretty tired, because we had just been grinding for so many weeks in a row, and so Patrick and Mo were like: Let’s go. Oddvar can find his own way home. And I looked over at Oddvar, and he was like, dancing by himself, like, wobbling all over the place, starting on his ninth or tenth drink, and I was just like: Guys, dude is WASTED. I don’t even know if he has a place to stay tonight. Let’s just put him up in the guesthouse.

And Patrick got pissed. I mean, literally, I could see the veins popping out of his forehead. I’ve never seen him so angry at me before. He was just like: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

And I was like: Dude, we can’t just LEAVE him here. He doesn’t know anybody in L.A.

And Patrick was like: He’s a grown man. He can figure it out.

And I was like: Come on, man. He hosted us on a fucking island in the middle of nowhere. The least we can do is make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit.

And Patrick was like: The guy is bad vibes. We need to get rid of him. Now.

And I was like: Patrick, it’s Oddvar.

And Patrick was like: Does that look like fucking Oddvar to you?

And we looked over at him, and he was like, drunkenly trying to do the Macarena or something in the middle of the dance floor, and we were both just sort of like: Fuck, man. What’s going ON here?