Post-Portland
Ever been to a rave at a church? I have. Last night’s party was at the Columbia Arts Center, an amazing theater/community center that used to be a church. They set up the DJ inbetween two stunning stained glass windows, and people danced uncontrollably where god-fearing nonsinners once sat.

The party was alright. Eli opened, and Dre spun from midnight to 1:30. I harkened back to my “rave cheerleader” days and made it my job to dance as hard and encouragingly as I could, in an effort to get other people on the dance floor. I had mixed success rates, but it felt good to dance that hard since I haven’t made it to the gym in a couple weeks. Andreas was stunned that I had danced to his techno, but I liked his set! An interesting side effect of him only DJing through his headphones at home (most practicing DJs spin out loud on speaker systems, annoying their girlfriends to no end) is that I haven’t heard any of his new music. And I actually liked some of it!

I ran into Andy, the old friend of Dre’s who threw the event, at one point, and I complimented him on the set he had played.
“…Even though it was trance,” I qualfied.
“Oh, you don’t like trance?” he asked.
“I hate trance,” I explained to perhaps the only raver on the planet who didn’t know.
“Oh, so THAT’S why Andreas stopped spinning it!” he conjectured.
“I don’t like techno either,” I countered. “So he certainly didn’t switch to please me!”

What a bad DJ girlfriend I am, not liking my boyfriend’s music! I enjoyed his set last night, but that is considered a rarity in our circle of friends. Apparently Andreas is an amazingly skilled DJ (so friends and strangers tell me), but I’ve never been one to care about the skills–I’m much more about the kind of music than how well it’s played. My distaste of his music is not a bitter point between Andreas and I. It doesn’t really matter to either of us. So what if I like house, downtempo, and breaks, and he plays techno and trance? We are more than our musical taste, and we both adore George Michael, so it’s ok.

I got unbelievably hungry at around 2:00am (sober raver lesson: when you’re up all night of your own volition, you get really really hungry), so I went to Denny’s by myself.

“Just two tonight?” the waitress asked me.
“Just one.” I answered.

I really enjoyed my meal alone. I watched ravers arrive in packs of four or six, and revelled in my table for one. I read the paper, I ate my sunnyside up eggs, I peoplewatched.

Back at the party, it was business as usual. Scott and Owen weren’t due down from Seattle for a couple hours (Scott had a Superstar DJ night, playing in Seattle until 1am, then hopping in his vw van and driving to Portland for a set at 4:30), so Dre and I passed out in the car. Amazing how easily you can sleep in a cramped Honda when you’re really tired.

I woke up at 4am, headed back to the party just in time to welcome Owen, Scott, Mike, Brandon, and Seth to the hoopla. Unfortunately, Scott got stuck down in the trance room, so I couldn’t enjoy watching the sunlight come in through the stained glass windows, but despite being up for almost 24 hours without any enhancements, despite the lights being taken down in the middle of Scott’s set, I still danced my ass off and enjoyed myself. Now, if you want to find a DJ who plays music I adore, you’d have to look for Scott Haapala. Epic breaks? Tribal electro? Subfunk rockass breakhop? That kids got some fantastic taste in music. Not bad on the eyes, either, but the records don’t lie. Nicely done, Haaps.

Breakfast of champions was back at Denny’s (ew, twice in four hours? Gross, but I was hungry again), and then driving home. We had some car problems on the way back (the mysterious stutter from last year has returned, and Andreas had to use his exception “gente drive” technique to get us home. I was delirious upon arrival, and was asleep before I got into the bedloft.