Song: Moan, by Trentemøller


 This sound makes its way into my room and mind, introducing with it the expectation of a potentially exceptional night along with industrial science-fiction rhythms which, four by four, feel like a flavourful starter in an Italian restaurant: This is not the main dish yet, but is coming soon and it will be good. My name is Techno and you are going to hear a lot from me tonight; I hope we can both dance in harmony together.

I have been waiting for this event for a long time. This is my first Saturday off work and, even though the night will take place in a very similar atmosphere from where I conduct my job, this time I am going to be on the exact other side; the other side of the bar. Speedy J is playing tonight on the north of Amsterdam and it is the time for me to disconnect from the last weeks’ stress and enjoy myself along with some Goodfellas.

I open my third drawer in the exact same time when the song drops, just in between the “important documents” and my precious memories/Diogenes syndrome drawers. I move away two boxes of Paracetamol and a tablet of Voltaren in order to find a more colourful, and absolutely illegal, kind of pill. This time my retailor had the shrewdest little ‘can of Heineken-shaped’ green pills which, composed by 215 mg of MDMA as the website X describes, will make my night go in the direction I want it to go. They cost me 5€ each; Ecstasy in the Netherlands is literally half the price as in other places I have lived in – like Leeds or Barcelona – but way better; better mainly because the amount of MDMA is higher on average, as my colleagues, myself and every single person I have chatted about the topic have ascertained. I put the bag with the two pills in the back pocket of my wallet so nobody can see what I have with me when I look for my ov-chipkaart. I feel pumped-up, very excited; I feel like this because I am going out and I know almost for sure that I will enjoy the night because of Ecstasy, as instead of leaving it to a random outcome. Knowing that you will enjoy is such a powerful feeling. And just when Bonobo finishes its digital concert, Moderat brings a New Error to my evening. The shower is on and so is the music.

– Here is yours man! – I tell my friend seconds before placing the remaining pill into my socks. Everyone knows that bouncers check your pockets and wallets out, but never your feet, so every person I know and myself use this “trick” of filling your socks with future self-Christmas-ish gifts so the bouncers cannot stop us from going inside the party because of possessing illegal drugs. My friends do exactly the same ritual and we all start walking – in a doubtful straight line due to the real cans of Heineken we just had a few minutes ago- towards the club’s door.

I feel great, and not just because of the alcohol in my veins but because of knowing that, in just an hour, I will be swimming in a lake of catchy beats and dancing along people and playful lights, without worrying about my next deadline, how will I pay my debt or the reason of why any girl will not be interested in having sex with me. Nevertheless, I do get my body palpated even before going inside, but this time for non-sexual but “security” reasons – aka lets perform the part of the club regulation where it says I have to do this as fast and superficially efficient as I can – when we all go through the entrance. After being partially checked out since the bouncer was just interested in my wallet and my pockets, we are ready to say the Techno scene magic door-opening words: The line up.

My ears can start grasping the ‘Boom Boomburun Boom’. Exactly this Boom:

Song: Hypnotize, by Solomun

We all leave our jackets and dispose ourselves to go inside the room where, soon – 45 min to one hour and 15 min after our first visit to the bathroom depending on our metabolic system– will stop being just a room to be a space in which a group of people will have a such an unique relationship.

The light is low but the sound is high. Darkness is the background of about ten different beams of light dancing to the technician’s orders, while a worshiped conductor situated in the middle of the back of the dance floor makes a bunch of black rubber mouths scream the result of his admirable hands movements. People are dancing in an unfinished way since they are more focused in talking and drinking for now. I guess it is still soon for showing the good moves, although not for two girls who are giving every single energy determination they have in their tiny bodies. Probably Speedy without-the-J was already playing some bumping tunes in their bodies. The room is big, 1000 people could fit in; the room is squared, even though the darkness does not let me visualize the corners yet. This is the place where I have wanted to be for 3 weeks already and now I am almost here. Apparently time goes faster when you are counting it down, or at least it is more present. As usual, I let one of my friends get the first round of beer after three minutes of waiting at the bar and we dance for 10 minutes. I know that this is not it yet; it feels incomplete.

I am having fun and smells like Techno spirit, but still, mi mind is placed in the coming future. That is why I go to the friend on my right and tell him that I am going to pee. They all know that peeing is something secondary that joins along when you go to the bathroom. I find the place and I wait for 40 seconds on an empty “standing toilets” area for somebody to get out of one of the closed toilets. The probably-hypocrite sound of the toilet being flushed out performs and a poker faced guy leaves the one square vice-room free. I go down to my sock to get the pill out of it while being as excited as Pávlov’s dogs when noticing the food. I put the pill on my tongue and, being helped out by the strength of a wave of beer, it surfs all the way down to my stomach. I have swallowed the pill and now it is just a matter of time; I prepare my poker face while flushing the unused toilet.


PS: One



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