Random RVAlution

Once again, my friends come through for me and decide they have a place for me backstage. Sigh, she sighed. Something happened between the time that I woke up on Tuesday and wound up in Richmond, VA, at the Hat Factory, dancing in a Hawaiian lai behind a bunch of candy raver-types in front of circa 1500 people. If you had been there, you would have been staring at a long line to get into a heavily-guarded venue. Music pumps from within. Girls are sparklier and taller than usual. Guys stand around in collared plaid, arms crossed sizing up the potential of the cattle they're about to drive. A lot of them have already dropped or rolled or somersaulted or catapulated, and this f*#$^&'n line isn't helping the fact that all the cars have turned into giant potato monsters (think evil Mr. Potato Head), and there are computer-generated lemmings marching and falling off the side of the building, forming an ominous yellow radioactive puddle on the concrete. If only the door guy could see what's eating the soles of his shoes right now he might decide you're small papitos and let you slide by the VIP.

Luckily I got to skip the linemare by virtue of my liaison with DJ Throdown and his old getup crew of track tinkerers. But this is a bigger party than the music. It's positively Dionysian. For six bucks you are offered eye candy on every level from the traditional spun cotton on paper cones to the chicks in tutus and spandex dancing on platforms. Not to mention the obligatory light-spinning hula hoops, twisting their way up and down a young female's curvy body. Which never gets old. (Young Chick in Underwear Dances to FrankMusik). And if I'm getting my full six bucks worth, there had better be an acrobat hanging from a long red rope in front of the stage, and a balloon sculpturist, and other assorted dark circus characters. I spectacled the spectacle from some pretty interesting perspectives...but my camera battery was kaput. So you'll just have to take a glimpse of the video someone posted on facebook (and look for the suddenly average six-foot blonde wearing a Hawaiian lai).

Did I mention this happens every Tuesday night?