THOSE EARLY afternoon hours were magic.
We charged into the Trance Zone as if storming a castle, charged into a vast tapestry of sound spun with stupefying power from those ten coned fingers.
I danced next to Tim who grooved away with a one-arm-pump-alpha-coolness, head scanning the crowd for hotties. I danced next to Darius dressed in rainbow pants and looking like a raggedy-ann doll; who contrived to dance off-beat, to dance in-between the beat a split second behind the rest, totally in sync being out of sync with the bass.
I danced next to big Dan craning over the crowd, and next to Joseph sucking in his cheeks in exultation. I danced with my hands in the air, yelling fuck yeah as the trance built to dizzying peaks. I danced and grinned at Sam and Jacob and Charley, Kathy and Sandra and all the rest.
And still the rain came down.
In those first hours it was unique and welcome, the air keen and lyrical in our lungs and tasting of damp botanical things. The day diffuse with a hidden sun’s light, clothes getting wetter, heavier, colder, clinging. Shoes wet and squelching, ground sodden but not saturated yet, and with every glance up a skylocked sea.
Smiles of beautiful gals on their galaxy glide to parts happy and unknown. Smiles of your fellow trancers as you contemplate the pools and developing mud. Smiles of your closest friends, arms wrapped around one another, pointing and shouting, laughing, slipping over, it all being some great cosmic joke.
But as the first hours and first drugs burnt off, as people drifted away soaked and looking for shelter - and everything grew a little harder and a little colder - the rain didn't seem so welcome anymore and we wished for it to stop, if only for a while.
It only got heavier.
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