“We bought the tickets at a coffee shop in the Tenderloin as the answering machine directed. A tattooed girl with purple dreads and a septum piercing gave us the slip of paper with directions to the waiting point, a time, and a stamp.
The waiting point was under 280 and there were a huge number of people young and old, all looking around, nobody knowing what to expect. An old moving van pulled up and the driver got out and signaled for people to get inside. He checked our makeshift paper tickets as we scrambled in, sat, and the van drove off with us in the back. The ride was a good 15 minutes, and we had no idea what was next.
When we stopped, the van’s roll-up door opened, and we heard distant thumping as the group moved towards the entrance of an abandoned warehouse, somewhere on the waterfront.
As we entered, we saw the projectors, the lights, and hundreds of dancing bodies...”
Comments