For the first few seconds, it was almost disorienting. It was like all your senses were thrown into a blender. You’re sucked in, and then spun. The rave was ultimate sensory vertigo. The base, the lights, the colors, the vibe--It was as if I could drink it all in through my pores. Once the disorientation subsided a little, I started to examine my surroundings more. I had to admit I was a little more giddy than usual. Only having Jazz and Key at my back made me feel a little more reckless and wild, like anything was possible. Friday night’s rave was at the Eastown Theatre. The Eastown was yet another example of Detroit’s stunning pre-depression architecture fallen to exquisite ruin. It had a hodgepodge of Renaissance Revival styles. In its heyday, it could hold 2500 people with its auditorium and large balcony. It hosted the likes of Alice Cooper, the Doors, Pink Floyd, and the Grateful Dead. I was in awe of its terrible beauty as I slowly took in the scene. As if reading my thoughts, Jazz tried to yell over the music, “Now, this is what I’m talking about,”
