must be the moon
had an insanely good time seeing The Crystal Method and Paul Oakenfold
5 minutes before doors and we're like oh shit we gotta go. rave fits and makeup on in record time. drive over, no traffic. ominous black storm clouds highlight the skyline but the rain holds off completely. ez parking spot. slam a beer. friend is working the door. more friends inside. more show up. crowd is perfect, full but not packed. all the oldheads came out to dance (or at least nod along). it was a 90s warehouse rave, it was ibiza, it was dance dance revolution, it was a sports bar full of guys over 40, it was rave girlies in the blacklights. we were dayglo, we were the epicentre of the dancefloor. we got the whole dance circle to dig a grave in unison. randoms were casting dance spells with us: hot dog shirt guy, and weird al if he was raver. hawaiian shirt guy spent 25 mins cracking a whole pack of glow braclets and trying to put them on before dancing with them for 5 mins and then spending most of the show really interested in the ceiling. saw a friend we hadn't seen since last year at darude and then they literally mixed in sandstorm. everyone over 30 (98%) lost it with the sick mix of SOAD Toxicity. Oakenfold made another remix of Red Hot Chili Peppers Otherside in the year 2026. average guy in soccer jersey (pictured above) is overjoyed that he matches, we are all "the yellows boys" to him, he says to let him know if anyone fucks with us.
mac & cheese & cheezits & ibuprofen. goodnight.
