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A Day in the Life
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The James D. Pfluger Pedestrian Bridge over Town Lake has been the scene of some of my better memories, and in fact it saved my first ecstasy experience.
Let me preface this a little bit- I don't like raves. Never have. I hadn't ever been to one before what I’m about to talk about, so I guess that isn't fair to say, but life isn't fair, so fuck it. As far as I knew, raves were in seedy warehouses full of shitty DJs, black lights, glowsticks, and people on ecstasy. All of which is true. But apparently they can also take place on bridges, and on this fateful night our favorite DIY hotspot was trippin' balls.
However, mind you, I was not "trippin' balls." I only took one hit, it being my first time and all, (I'm a pussy) and didn't feel much of anything besides being really uncomfortable in the "I just ingested chemicals" sort of way. I did really enjoy watching Cat Power music videos by myself in a dark room, but I can't say that was because of the X. She’s always comforting. Anyhow, outside of Chan Marshall singing me lullabies, I was pissed. I was not loving anyone (except for Chan) and I really just felt like shit, so on my list of things to do, going to a bridge show was somewhere between stabbing myself in the eye with a fork and drinking week-old beer out of a hobo’s shoe. The homies had heard there was something going on at the bridge and had their minds made up on going though, so we piled into Travis’ car and took off. Once we got there I started to pump myself up, convincing myself that I was totally fucked up and loving everything. It sorta worked because by then I was whiskey drunk anyway.
We walk up and Whoa! Fucking lights are going off everywhere! The whole bridge was filled with kids in silly hats dancing passionately awful. Many more were balding and dancing much, much worse. Then it hit me: This is not a bridge show, this is a rave on the bridge. I took X. I am at a rave on a bridge.
Tight.
The official rave ambassadors were quick to greet us: two drunk girls dressed to the raver nines in glowsticks, necklaces and bracelets of all colors, lame Canadian boots. Feathers were stuck in their hats and they were calling them macaroni. These girls made fun of us for not being on the wavelength of all the good vibes, and then for not drinking our whiskey fast enough. We'd already drunk a handle of Jameson by then, so we just shooed them away and kept passing around the bottle. Me and the boys then sat on the railing for a while, elevated above the madness, perched to fully soak up the, uh, rave. Bleep bloop, bleep bloop.
Holy shit though, this rave had it all. The DJ was bumping some totally wicked progressive house that a dyed-blonde eastern European would totally jam in his '88 Golf, windows down. Dozens of failed goths who hadn't had any friends in high school danced wildly as he spun. Surrounding the dancers was the hula-hoop circle, which was mostly a bunch of gay guys with highlights telling my friend Wesley, "Awww yeah, put it in my ass and stuff," (real quote) while he ruled their asses on the hula-hoop. Rollergirl swept by every now and then fucking rocking it, she alone a rave on wheels. Actually, I think she said that at one point, like, out loud: "I'm a rave on wheels." Wandering around after Rollergirl the whole night was this one-legged Indian bum in a wheelchair with A GLASS OF WINE. Yes, a glass of wine. I never once saw it empty and I never once saw the bottle, but he was way more drunk than anyone else there and that’s a fact. I couldn't help but think about the lovechild he and Rollergirl could make- a hideously discolored baby born with wheels for feet. Holy shit did that make me laugh, and I did my best to try to convince them two to fuck by thinking about it really hard. For a while I could see some signs that it was working, which sorta creeped me out, and so I stopped.
Quite an all-star cast was there, but Pigtails was the golden God that night, constantly bouncing around with glowsticks placed (get this) around the buns of his pigtails. He was having a blast all over the bridge- dancing, hula-hooping, rolling around with homeless wheelchair man and Rollergirl, telling the DJ how much his mix rocked ass, having a balls to the mall, ole-timey blast. Pigtails was indeed trippin' balls and was the king of the entire party.
I still hate raves. Probably even more than I used to.