sebastian’s ultra edit. cut down from 720 words to 420.

As we approached Bicentennial Park in Downtown Miami, the furious roar of electronic music reached decibel volumes, unbearable to the common man. The sweltering mass of people danced to the vibrations underneath the causeway with their hands extended toward the DJ as if welcoming a long-awaited Messiah.

There was an inconceivable turnout at Ultra Music Festival this, its eleventh, year. And it is true what parents and preachers fear- this festival is nothing but a celebration of the terminally decadent and obscene. Within this park, there are enough drugs to send Tim Leary running for the hills and enough sonic boom to silence a Challenger take-off.

Covered by the mothership-like Main Stage, the sky could no longer be seen. Among the crowds, one could see that this was the day that all the freaks emerged from obscurity; that even the seemingly decent and All-American, morphed into wild eyed creatures, covered themselves in fluorescent paint, and ran amok in a bare-chested orgasmic frenzy.

“Hello, Miami” a robotized voice hollered from far away in the imposing stage, over the half-naked mass of freaks, creeps… All of them were fighting, mating, dancing, and medicating. The weird and the dangerous had found their perfect utopia in this reserved piece of land.

If the Star Trek series rudely copulated with Louie XVI’s court, spawned a bastard child, and named it Ultra, would that be far-fetched? Maybe. Nonetheless, a good approximation to what the festival really is like.

“It’s all about like the love, that intense feeling of like bliss… You know?” asserted an anonymous source by the kebab stand. 

It was  about 10.30 pm, one and a half hours before closing, just when this whole festival and sub-culture seemed a non-sensical excuse for brainless brutes to shove unholy quantities of multicolored pills with funny names down their raspy throats, that the common sentiment that validated all this depraved craziness was revealed.

Under the primitive roar of Carl Cox’s music and the incessant, vital drumbeats, every individual seemed to merge, to melt, into one giant collective entity pulsating in unison with the ever-increasing energy. A communion of joy.

In the end, it seemed a good time was had by all, except maybe the trampled, overdosed, dehydrated, knocked-up, knocked-down and terminally exhausted. However, they’d all assent to the notion it was all worth it; a strange feeling of universal love and understanding had prevailed if only for those two days. 

From March 28 to March 29 a striking utopia was created and peaked.