My roommates and I saw Steve Aoki at “Life in Color” (formerly known as “Dayglow”) this past weekend. It was undoubtedly the grossest night of my life. Please enjoy my synopsis and revel in the fact that you never have to experience this, unless you are masochistic and voluntarily choose to do so.
Never, ever go to a 16+ rave if you are over the age of 21. A “16 and over event” is a euphemism for a massive horde of very slimy, pre-pubescent teenagers who don’t yet understand practical “rave etiquette,” if you will. First off, let’s address the texture of the audience. People were so wet that you could easily slip past them—a discovery that horrified me the first time it happened. I was in such shock that I had to look down at my arm and physically touch the slime that coated my skin to confirm what I thought I had felt. I contemplated its consistency for a few moments—Why so goopy? Was it sweat? Was it paint? Was it whatever was leaking from the ceiling?—and then came to the dismal conclusion that I would have to come to terms with it, and would most likely be covered in the same concoction by the end of the night.
The show’s theme was that we are one big family, and this poignant message was delivered by a hype man who only spoke in platitudes. He asked, “Is this the best night of your life?!” but as I looked around at my braces-laden siblings, I could not join them in their debauchery. Girls were taking selfie-series that lasted five photos too long. Boys were thirsty AF, turning the concert into an aggressive high school dance. Everyone was aimlessly tumbling onto each other, creating clumsy, unintentional mosh-pits.
All the while, the opening DJ was spinning tracks that didn’t sync, and I grimaced in anticipation of paint in my face every time the beat dropped. Each of us got shot dead in the eye at some point during the night, which was followed by panic of becoming blind, and then frantic helplessness as we realized there was nothing dry to wipe our eyes on. By the time Steve took the stage, we were already halfway checked out. Some memorable moments included Boneless, Phat Brahms, and obligatory cake—and then, we decided it was time to leave.
The tail end of the night only confirmed our feelings of agedness. As we were walking out of the venue, Kristen blithely mentioned that the Alibaba I.P.O. was soon going to be set. Excitement over stock options has got to be the dorkiest, but most cogent giveaway that you’re getting old.
I’d like to think that my happiness does not rely on the people around me. I’d also like to think that I’m the type of person who can turn any situation into a fun one. Sadly, this is not true. A 16+ rave is no place for a 22-year-old.