The Verdict: Maybe I´ll catch you there…it´s not like I´m not here on a regular basis. You see, this spotlight on The Hot Spot was a long time coming…so long, in fact, that I find it difficult to start at the beginning of the story this week.
Besides, at the moment one of the few things I remember about the night I finally decided to spread the word about this place and its doings is that I had fun, so it’s probably best if I try to conjure up the most recent memories first,…you know, piece it all together.
The Vices: The driver, who I wouldn’t have known from Adam, rocketed up 200 on the way back to the city proper, whipping around blind corners as he regaled my fellow hitchhiker and I with tales of cocktails and cockfights. Even through the dense fog of revelry that had accumulated in my mind that evening, I could clearly see the humor in it…in a way, our shuttle finally arrived.
It was nearly sunrise and I could occasionally feel my eyes cross from all the colored lights and colorful times we had left at the top of the hill. Thoughts swirled through my expanded mind like a lava lamp, and I noticed that although most of my festive decorations were intact–the wings came out unscathed, my competition-grade face paint remained remarkably resilient–my decorative wrist ribbon was just a fond memory, lost to this dance move or that handshake.
It was more than a fair price to pay for the evening I had enjoyed. I took another sip of what had to be the 8th drink gifted to me in as many hours. This couldn’t have gone better…I got everything I wanted out of tonight.
Wait, pictures. Dammit, forgot to take pictures.
Pictures wouldn’t really have done justice to the scene that unfolded. Glow sticks lit up the night like fireflies as the bass thumped through bodies in motion. One happy human in particular bounced and twirled in exaltation, apparently signaling her home planet just to say ¨hi.¨ Standing as close as I dared to the edge of the 8th-story balcony, I took in the waxing moon and blew a hazy kiss to the heavens. None of it would have been captured with a camera.
The vendors scheduled for the event had long gone by the point in this 17-hour affair when I arrived, but around midnight some venerable soul fired up the rooftop grill and threw on a few hot dogs. If you just started reading this column about a month ago, you might think I’m obsessed with them or something, but that’s sort of like saying Neil Armstrong’s favorite meal is powdered eggs and Tang…sometimes you do what you must for the mission.
The Vibes: After carefully considering the balance of substances in my system at the time, I decided to accept a kind offer of a whiskey and soda. What can I say…when you show up to a party looking like you’re ready to party, other parties are often happy to assist you in the endeavour. Receiving glow sticks from a staffer soon afterward, I wound one into my locs like a crown and dropped the other in the cup…now there could be no doubt who owned this drink.
I definitely needed another drink after waiting for the shuttle so long.
The time was a little after 10 as I drained my last planned beverage of the night, ribbon trailing out behind the upturned can. We stepped out of the taxi the six of us had split to get to the site and reached the top of the tall staircase perched in the verdant hills south of the city. I was happy to see a number of the friends that I´d made in the past few years gathered in celebration on this particularly potent evening. Hell, I was just happy to finally be there.
Around 9pm the party favors began to take effect, so I was glad I decided not to upgrade from the 100 peso general entry wristband to the 400 peso open bar access. Surely a solid pregame session would carry me through the evening…feeling carefree on a busy corner within sight of the ocean, a new buddy and I had both popped the top on the first of an Indio six-pack and toasted to good times ahead as we awaited our ride.
I arrived at the meeting point for the shuttle bus that would pick us up from the bar itself and take us to the party, I caught a glimpse of myself in a storefront window. The face paint scheme I had devised for the evening was stellar, my repurposed wings were ever so fly, and my wrist ribbons fluttered impatiently in the cool night breeze.
I´d been coming to The Hot Spot for a while, but since the first time I walked into this condensed club atmosphere I recognized that it had a special appeal, but when I heard this high-energy enclave on Calle Allende just off the Malecon was throwing a 17 hour rave as part of a debuting series of special events, I just had to be a part of it, for professional purposes. I love this job.
Info: The Hot Spot Calle Allende 120, Centro