This is the full 13th chapter of my book Paper Squares and Purple Stars: My Life as a Rave Outlaw. I have decided to share the whole book here for free. The book is already available for purchase at www.raveoutlaw.com, and the mobile game is coming soon, www.immortalgames.co.uk.
If you missed chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, or 12 go back and read those in order first.
Chapter 13 - Summer of Good Vibes (Summer 2008)
I felt way more anxiety on the day of my first show than I expected. Suddenly, it wasn't fun and games anymore...It was work. As soon as the show began, I could tell that I wouldn't be experiencing things the same way that I usually did. I took the advice that I got from Mickey seriously and stayed sober, aside from having a beer or two and smoking some weed to calm my nerves. I was the one in charge this time, and I had to keep a somewhat professional face if I wanted people to take me seriously.
It definitely felt weird, but I was better off staying sober because there was so much work for me to do. It may have been difficult for me to focus otherwise. I was running back and forth between the three rooms all night as DJs requested various things or as different pieces of gear broke down. There was a steady flow of people throughout the night, but I sadly didn't set the world on fire like I expected to. The turnout was about the same size that we saw in the early days before I was kicked out, but not quite as good as the Tru Zu shows. I may have been disappointed, but everyone else was pleasantly surprised by the turnout, especially Charles.
He said it was the best turnout since Tru Zu, and no one expected anything from it. Not only was it my crew's first party, but the music I booked was not the trendy stuff that most promoters were comfortable with. I really pushed the envelope with the theme too. I may be the only rave promoter to offer discount tickets for impersonating a police officer. At the end of the night, the DJs all seemed very happy with how everything went. An hour before the party ended, Charles gave me envelopes from the door money to pay everyone out and told me that I made a profit of $40.
“This is the most door money that we have had sitting on a table in months. It doesn't look like much, but consider this a new beginning. I want you to start doing more shows in here, at least once a month,” Charles said.
“Yeah, Definitely. I mean, that's what I've wanted all along anyway, but I'm gonna need more time to plan and promote for the next one. Let’s not start until the end of the summer, then we can go monthly,” I said.
“It's a deal, but let's set up a date now so you can get started right away,” he said, grabbing his calendar book.
“How about August 30th?” he asked.
“Yeah that works for me, I'll have something for you real soon,” I said.
Back home I had a document on my computer that listed the new connections I made, including Jen Mas. The document also had possible budgets, lineups and set times for future shows. I wasted no time in contacting everyone on the list to confirm the date with them, and one of the DJs even offered to design the flyer. I had a bit more of a sophisticated plan with the lineup this time around. Instead of booking the same type of music in multiple rooms, I put the hard stuff downstairs on the main stage, the housey music in the larger upstairs room, and the chill drum and bass in the lounge where everyone hung out and smoked weed. Again though, I was still drawing a blank on a name, even though I had a vague idea that I wanted to do some type of theme relating to ancient history.
Next week was the legendary Ghetto Meadow renegade party in Philly, and I figured it couldn't hurt to see if Mickey had any ideas about a name since he helped out last time. The Ghetto Meadow was tucked away near an industrial park in one of those neighborhoods in Philly that ran along the state line with New Jersey. As the name implied, it was a meadow in the middle of the ghetto, but it was in an area that didn't get much foot traffic because it wasn’t near any houses, and of course, we were technically trespassing. I'm not sure who owned the property, perhaps an absentee landlord or someone who was involved with the industrial park, but there was a rumor that he knew about the party and was totally cool with it. I heard that he would even stop by to party and check up on the place sometimes without telling anyone who he was. The DJ setup was powered by two generators that were running upwind from the party, and there was a wide open space for dancing. The concrete dance floor overlooked a chemical-filled swamp and rows of smokestacks that went on as far as you could see. There were multiple people with tanks set up, but you could tell that none of them were involved with the nitrous mafia. This show was way too underground for them, they stuck to the major festivals where they could make six figures in a night. 
I made sure to find Mickey before I started partying so I could catch up with him about the show and see if he had any ideas. When I found him, he was dancing in front of the speakers. This was actually the first time I saw him dance, and the first time in a while that I saw a smile on his face too. I decided it would be best to not interrupt his moment of peace, so I hung around the edge of the crowd and waited for him to finish. After a few minutes, he stepped aside to catch his breath.
“I didn't know you could dance like that,” I said as I walked over to him.
“That's because I'm usually not allowed to have any fun,” he replied.
“Says who?” I asked.
“Uhhh...That’s a good question. Says me I guess,” Mickey said laughing.
Then he asked, “So how's it going, how was your party?”
“It was alright, not bad for my first show, I guess. They scheduled me for another one, so I guess that means it was a success,” I said.
“Fuck yeah, that’s a big win man. So, do you know what you are gonna do for your next party?” He asked.
“Well, I'm thinking some kind of ancient history theme,” I said.
“How far back are we talking? Are we talking like witches and wizards or cavemen?” He asked
“I didn’t even think of a prehistoric thing, that might be cool, with dinosaurs and shit,” I said.
Mickey thought for a minute and said, “Let's go grab a drink.”
We walked to an area towards the back of the crowd where about a half-dozen DJs were huddled around a tank, a keg, and a few coolers of beer. Mickey grabbed two beers and handed me one. After he took the first sip of his drink, his eyes lit up, and he started laughing.
“What is it?” I asked.
He tilted back his head and shouted “Yabba-Dabba-Doooooo,” into the sky.
“Get it? Flintstones?” he asked.
“Wow, dude! You are full of good ideas! People will love that!” I said.
“Yeah man call it yabba-dabba-doo, discount for costumes like you did before and put raver Flintstones on the flyer,” Mickey said.
“Thank you. I seriously don't know what I’d do without your help,” I said.
“Well, I hate to say it, but you're gonna have to figure that one out pretty soon. I’m retiring from this shit. I'm pretty sure I'm moving too,” Mickey said, taking a few steps away from the crowd to sit down on a bench.
“What!? Why!? I asked, sitting down next to him.
“It's time for me to move on man, and ya know what? I'm actually happy about it. When all that shit went down, I hit rock bottom. It made me think about what's really important and how I want to be spending my time. As much as there is that's beautiful about this scene, it's not easy trying to be the one that holds it all together, I’m sure you'll see soon enough,” Mickey said.
“Wow, I really don't know what to say. I can tell that you seem much happier, and that's what's most important,” I said.
“Exactly. Life goes on. The show will go on. This thing goes in waves and cycles, my turn is over, and now it's your turn, and you are doing everything exactly like you need to be. The only thing is that soon you'll have to start coming up with your own names, but I think you'll be just fine,” he said.
“I may be able to figure out my own names, but I'm not sure about anything else. Fuck, I just learned what the difference between house and drum and bass was,” I said.
Mickey laughed, “You'll learn everything you need to know in time, through experience, just like everyone else did. You got the heart, that's all that matters, everything else will follow. Just don’t allow this lifestyle to consume you man, don't put all your eggs in one basket. Keep treating Caylee good, keep your day job and make sure those people out in the crowd are the priority at every show, you'll be fine,” Mickey said.
“It means a lot you believe in me, and I get it, I know you have just been drug through hell and need to find peace, I respect that,” I said.
We sat and talked for a few more minutes until we were both eventually spotted by people who wanted to talk to us and we both got sidetracked and went our separate ways. It was weird, now I was getting approached by random people all night just like Mickey was. Ravers were asking me about Galaxy and the parties they heard about in Baltimore, DJs were coming up to me asking for bookings, and hustlers were offering me insane prices because they heard about who I was. It was nice to feel admired for a change, but it was also very strange and unsettling to be the center of attention like that. 
As the night went on, the hissing of the tanks began calling my name, so I stepped into one of the lines to grab a few balloons. The prices were low because of all the competition, so I was able to get four balloons for ten bucks. After I paid, I walked around the party sucking down my nitrous and mingling with other ravers for a few minutes. Then suddenly, everything went black, and I found myself laying on the ground. As I opened my eyes and looked up, I saw Caylee and several other people huddled over me with concerned looks on their faces.
“What happened?” I asked, feeling somewhat groggy.
“You just fished the fuck out man! Luckily that dude caught you!” a stranger shouted from the crowd.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah, I was over there on the phone making fun of the dumbass who fished out and almost fell on his face before I realized it was you,” Caylee said.
I laughed, “Thanks,” I said.
“You know better dude, you need to sit down with them balloons...see?” Jerry said in a deep voice, sitting on the ground next to me with a balloon of his own.
Of course, I had to make a total ass of myself and fish out in front of hundreds of people as soon as they actually started to recognize who I was. Just then, I felt a few drops of water on my face, then more, and before we knew it, there was a massive downpour, and everyone ran for cover. I got up as quick as I could and ran for the small canopy where everyone was taking cover. We danced in the rain for at least a half hour before people began to give up and drift back to their cars. Eventually, they shut down the music because the equipment was starting to get wet. It sucked that my first Ghetto Meadow experience was cut short like that, but after the humiliation of nearly cracking my head open in front of everyone, I was grateful for the distraction.
The rest of the summer was busy, and I spent a lot of time working and preparing for the next show. We still went to every event we could find, but that summer the parties were a bit routine, with not much going on in the underground aside from a few empty shows at Galaxy. Someone actually attempted to throw another island party that year, and they had the guts to try it in Harrisburg too, but the cops showed up as soon as ravers were seen lining up on the shore. They wouldn't let anyone leave until we took a breathalyzer, and then they shut down the party, but I made sure to hand out flyers to everyone who showed up. I think our flyers made an impression too. The artwork featured Fred and Wilma Flintstone all raved out, holding glowsticks, wearing kandi and sucking on pacifiers. Back then, no one wanted to promote that side of the culture on their flyers, everyone tried to tone it down and make it look “professional.” It might have been risky, but people really seemed to respond to our style a bit more.
On the night of the party, it really showed too, we had more people through the door in the first hour than we have ever had in the club at one time. People were wild that night too, as soon as we opened the door this dude came running through the door with his fist in the air yelling “FUCKIN HARDCORE!” I talked to the guy, and it turned out that he was actually a DJ himself, but he was really only into hardcore, and no one else in the area booked it, so he rarely went out to shows. He seemed really cool, and I never met someone so passionate about the music, so by the end of the conversation, I recruited him to be a part of Good Vibes. His name was Nick, AKA DJ Treachery. He wasn't the only one that was going nuts though, at one point I saw a girl stumbling across the bar thinking she was dancing, and there was one kid who brought a bong in his backpack. Duke was fresh out of jail just in time for the party, and even he was a bit shocked by some of the behavior that he witnessed. At one point these two girls came up to him and asked him if he was rolling and when he said yes, they each grabbed one of his arms and then both of them got on their knees and started sucking on his hands. To this day I have no clue what the hell they were trying to accomplish, but his reaction was priceless.
“I’m sorry girls, but I honestly can't remember the last time I washed my hands,” he said. He must have been trying to shock them just as much as they shocked him. He was always good at coming up with jokes in the moment like that. The two girls erupted in laughter and then disappeared into the crowd, probably to go find more hands to suck, I guess they weren't germaphobes. I was still kind of new to the scene, so I wasn't sure if maybe this was some kind of “thing” that I was out of the loop on, but nope, after another decade of going to raves I have never seen that happen again and I'm still confused. Whatever was in the air that night, it was crazy, despite the obvious debauchery, the place was breathing with love, freedom and positive energy. Behind the scenes everything was perfect too, Charles was loving life, giving everyone free drinks and nodding his head to the music all night.
All of the DJs were stoked to be there, and Jen Mas acted like just another raver, which isn't what I had come to expect from headlining DJs, or even local ones for that matter. That night I ended up making just under a thousand dollars, which really isn't much for a month’s worth of work, but it was more than I made at my day job, and I couldn't believe that I was actually getting paid for something that I loved to do. That was an amazing summer, and for the most part, things were going pretty good, but I was still as out of control as ever, and it almost caught up with me.
The following week, I was out at a local club with a few friends and all of us had been drinking and partying heavily. I thought nothing of driving home, since being drunk had become such a normal part of my existence. I had been a severe alcoholic since my young teens, needing to drink every night or else I would be unable to sleep and even get the shakes, so going without booze wasn't something that happened very often. I decided to take the back roads that night to avoid the cops, but the roads were slick because of the rain, and on the way home I ended up spinning the car and hitting a guardrail right out front of someone's house. Whoever owned the home immediately came out to see if we were OK, and asked, “Do you want me to call for help?”
“Nah, let me see if it will start. We’re all ok, just slid out of control,” I said.
The car was in rough shape, but surprisingly it started, so I got out of there as fast as I could. That was one of many wake up calls about my drinking, which would eventually push me to reconsider that part of my lifestyle. Out of all the things I was putting into my body at that time, alcohol was without a doubt the worst, and it was starting to take a serious toll on my health as well. It is funny that the legal drugs are some of the most dangerous, while something as infamous as acid has basically no physical impact or side effects. It took me a while to quit drinking entirely though, it didn’t happen right away. Finding love and purpose in life was bringing me out of a depression that I had been in for years, and I was having less of a desire to be wasted all the time. Believe it or not, the psychedelics helped too. During many of my trips, I reflected on my unhealthy habits and was guided towards gradually giving up alcohol. I was shown the consequences of my actions, from the car accident to financial issues and problems with my family. During one particularly intense trip, I was told that my behavior would bring me an early death, which was the trip that encouraged me to put down the bottle once and for all. After that night I never had another cigarette, either. After I stopped drinking, I still continued to live an excessive lifestyle of constant partying, but I was much more in control, and I felt much better physically. For years the alcohol was an emotional crutch that I used to escape from depression and anxiety, but now I was building a new life for myself where the need to escape was much less persistent.