It’s really late and I’m kind of spent, so this is post is going to be pretty short. And lame. So feel free to skip it.
On Saturday I went to my first rave, and 48 hours later I’m still kind of recovering from it. To be honest, I didn’t expect to enjoy HARD Summer at all, seeing how I’ve stopped drinking, almost never listen to EDM, and NEVER dance. So obviously I was quite surprised that it kind of turned out to be one of the highlights of my life. I don’t really want to get into that because, well, some things are just not that blog appropriate.
But I can tell you that yesterday a 19 year old girl OD’d on meth and ecstasy at that same rave my friends and I went to. Apparently it’s the second straight year that someone has died at HARD Summer. It’s really unfortunate but I can’t say I’m all that surprised. The truth is, the whole fest is pretty much a drug house. People were smoking weed, dropping acid, and popping molly pretty much everywhere. And no one was being low-key about any of it. The kids who parked next to us asked us if it was okay that they “dropped” in the car. Some white guys asked us if we wanted to smoke their joint. There was so much smoke on the stage that we were coughing and sneezing out black boogers hours after the rave ended. Everything was just so accessible. No one really cared as long as you can sneak in whatever you need past the very casual security lines. And maybe that’s what makes raves so fun – the fact that you can get front row seats to people openly doing shit they’re not allowed to anywhere else. In the dark, the music, the bright lights, the drugs, the drinks – they create this kind of dizzying cacophony that’s almost beautiful. Even for introverted misanthropes like myself, that kind of energy is so infectious that you can’t help but be entranced by it, by the crazy reckless people around you. Maybe that girl just got carried away by that toxic, addictive energy of the rave. Maybe that girl could have been me. Or my friends.
Two days later, I’m still kind of feeling the effects of withdrawal. Reality just seems kind of dull, and I just keep wishing I can go back to Saturday night and rediscover that energy. Even if I don’t go to a rave again for long time, I’ll always remember that night.