Beats, Groovin’ and the Lulas: Part 4

We eventually settled on a spot near the outskirts of the dance floor but on the opposite side of the entrance. This was my kind of location. I needed space to move when I danced and disliked being tightly wedged between too many people, hardly able to manage a side step. When I grooved, I commanded the area around me. I was aggressive, I was unstoppable, I was happy. As cliché as it sounds, I felt as free as I had ever felt. I felt connected to all those wild and phenomenal souls around me, all of whom unerringly understood the magic of that musical gathering experience. I stomped; I jumped; I raised my hands in the air; I sweated; I ran to the bathroom and ran back, deathly fearful of missing anything.

The spot we had chosen had plenty of lovely girls grooving the night happily away. We had a name for lovely girls at a rave. We called them “lulas” but perhaps too liberally. A true lula was one you felt you had made a connection with on the dance floor. The connection could be as subtle as catching the lula’s eye and creating that split second of eye contact that would forge your every move as long as she was near. The stories that would pour out of one’s mind because of a lula’s real or imagined attentions were most often than not delusional, but felt insanely real. I must admit that I often fell prey to such delusions myself, maybe it was the drugs but every one of the guys also experienced it at some point during a groove.

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Beats, Groovin’ and the Lulas: Part 3

Once inside, it was business time. We needed to find the bathrooms in order to respond to nature’s call and dismantle the Con-cock-tions to have access to our drugs, find one of the many bars to buy bottled water, find some seats to “pop our nuggets” and ready ourselves for the groove. We managed to find the bathroom pretty quickly and once the pills were safely tucked away in our pockets, we bought some water at $5 a bottle and headed to some seats nearby. It was time to pop. We each had the same amount of pills, a perfect formula we had devised through our many groove experiences, 2 speeds and 1 ecstasy. We would begin with the first speed to get us going, then the ecstasy around 3 or 4 in the morning and the last speed around 5 or 6. I was ready to groove from the moment we got there since part of my groove ritual was to drink a Monster energy drink on the way there. While my friends were sitting down after having consumed our first speed, I was dancing already. 

It was time to do our usual survey of the dance floor. Lining up one after the other, we plunged into growing crowd. Despite the tediousness of having to clear a path through the dense mass, I always appreciated these walks. I loved seeing the different people dancing, their reactions to the beats and the mixes, the intensity in their eyes, their bodies in rhythmic ecstatic movement. The very center of the dance floor was thick with hundreds of men, most shirtless, grinding to the rhythm with unrelenting abandonnement. 

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Beats, Groovin’ and the Lulas: Part 2

Now was the time to ensure nothing would be forgotten in the car. It was a repetition of the exercise of checking off the list of necessary items when we got into the car in the first place: money, tickets, smokes, gum and drugs. Drugs were of course high on the priority list, however, security would often search people for weapons or drugs as they were entering such big grooves as the Black and Blue. Weapons were seldom an issue at this event. In the time I had been going to raves, I noticed that physical altercations involving weapons tended to occur in the raves that had a Hip-Hop room. In any case, I found absolutely no issue with them searching for weapons but I definitely took issue with security finding and confiscating my drugs. My friends and I had come up with a fool-proof solution, ensuring that our little pills would not be discovered. We called it the Con-cock-tion. Before leaving our meeting place for the groove, we would place our pills in one of those small sealable bags that drugs always seemed to packaged in anyways. We would then tape the bags around the base of our genitalia. We had used other methods of concealing our drugs in the past; however security at these events had slowly grown more persistent in their searches. The Con-cock-tion never failed.

As we approached the entrance, ending the long walk from the parking area, I began to hear the music in the air. I immediately felt a surge of energy flow through my body and I turned to my friends to look for that same intensity in their eyes. Steve’s hands were in the air, Ants was already performing his signature crouching twist dance move and Seb’s shoulders were moving up and down as his smile widened from ear to ear. I felt overjoyed; it was the culmination of weeks of waiting for this moment. To feel that connection with my friends, to not only see their joy but to understand and live it completely was sublime. We made our way to the short lineup and hardly waited at all to hand in our tickets and be admitted inside.

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Beats, Groovin’ and the Lulas: Part 1

Excited, nervous, anxious, eager, thrilled; these are the emotions that defined my being as we drove down the streets of Montreal with music blasting from the worn down Infinity speaker system on my Chrysler LHS or as we liked to call it the Silver Bullet. Oddly enough, what was playing was “L.A. Woman” by The Doors. Our choice of music was odd simply because we were headed to a rave. In fact, it was, at the time, the biggest rave in Montreal, the Black and Blue. We were obsessed with The Doors then, and almost every evening when I met up with my friends to mostly hang out and smoke marijuana, The Doors would accompany us on what were our nightly escapes. Before The Doors, it was The Wu-Tang Clan, whose lyrics to “Triumph” we sometimes still spontaneously start singing to this day.

Black and Blue was and still is an event held in early October, as the cooler weather had an already firm grasp on the city. We were now nearing the Olympic Stadium and we pulled into the parking lot, paying the attendant about $20. There was no time to waste in looking for a free spot on what would surely be already car-crowded streets. I enjoyed getting to raves early and insisted on arriving there for about 11:00 pm. You never knew how the lineups to get in were going to be like and I despised waiting on the outside while hearing the beats teasing me from the inside, just knowing I was missing something good. We found a spot and exited the Silver Bullet.

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