Chapter 28 - Fear and Loathing in Raveland (Summer 2010) - PSPS: My Life As A Rave Outlaw
Chapter 28 - Fear and Loathing in Raveland (Summer 2010)
We knew that Randall had a drug operation of his own, so he was just as unlikely to call the cops as we were, but if anyone heard the alarm before we were able to get out of there, things could have gotten very ugly. Luckily, after a few minutes, Enzo got bored, or maybe he ran out of steam. Either way, once he was satisfied with the damage he caused, he stood next to the car for a minute or two, I assume to appreciate his work. Eventually, he walked across the parking lot towards his car with a huge smile on his face, and then opened the door and threw the bat in the back seat.
“Let’s all meet back at my spot in Philly. I’m in the mood for an afterparty,” he shouted back to us before getting in his car and peeling out of the parking lot.
We tailed behind Enzo’s car until we got to the highway, and luckily, we were able to get out of town without running into any cops. It was a two-hour drive back to the city, and I was an emotional mess behind the wheel with Caylee and MC Manifest in the car. I felt defeated, yet again. It seemed like everything that I touched was somehow doomed to fail. Caylee was silent in the back seat, probably still shaken from everything that just happened, and Manifest was up front in the passenger seat, mumbling to himself.
“It doesn't make sense, it really seemed like this shit was meant to be. Over and over again the universe just dangles my dreams in front of me and then takes them away,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes, trying my best to focus on the road.
“This shit with creating your own reality is weird man, sometimes you never know what's going to be around the corner you know? And sometimes, sometimes shit just ain’t meant to be, and maybe sometimes bad people get in the way of fate and disrupt the flow of the matrix, you know what I'm sayin?” He rambled on.
“Yeah it makes sense, or maybe it's all bullshit,” I replied with a sigh.
It did make sense, I understood everything he was saying, and he was probably right, but it didn't make me feel any better. I had a whole lot wrapped up in these shows, not just my rent and grocery money, but also a lot of my identity and self-worth. My entire life I had been fighting to prove my worth to a world that seemed to undervalue me, but it was starting to feel like every time I got a taste of success it was quickly taken away. Looking back, I realize that this is a natural part of being a creative person and an entrepreneur, the process of constant failure that will hopefully build up to a success that might happen someday...if you are lucky enough or have the financial backing to keep on trying until you get lucky enough. Unfortunately, financial backing is something that was hard to come by at the time, and when I was able to find it, there were usually some very complicated strings attached.
The afterparty was back in Philly, at a trap house that Enzo had in a rough part of town. It was a huge old house that was run down and dilapidated, but you could tell that at one time, maybe 50 years ago, it was probably some rich person’s home. The house was three stories, and the rooms were huge, so Enzo was always throwing parties in there, with DJs and everything. You would think that this would be a dumb move, to bring so many people and so much attention to your stash house, but it was actually genius. Enzo had all his customers right there, and if the cops ever came, he could just pretend that he was there for the party since his name wasn't on the lease. The cops never really came anyway, since they usually had much more important things to be doing in that neighborhood. The house was dirty and run down, but it was a fun party spot. The place reminded me a lot of Tyler Durden’s hideout from the Fight Club movie, it had that same type of grimy charm.
We got there at least a half hour after Enzo that night because I like to drive exactly the speed limit, especially on nights like this. He was already there with a few DJs setting up turntables when we came through the door.
“Yo! DJ Ash was throwin a big party in Philly tonight and I'm havin him send all his people here, they just shut down a few minutes ago, so we’ll have a full house tonight,” Enzo said.
He flipped a bottle of liquor in the air and set it behind a makeshift bar.
“Really? That's cool, I been thinking about booking him, he would probably draw,” I said.
“Talk to him tonight, he's my homie, he’s been rollin with us for years, we go back,” Enzo said.
“Word, I will...You said it was a big party though, do you know how many people?” I asked jealously.
Enzo looked up from the bar, “Dude, your party was like two hours away, don't beat yourself up over it, you probably would have banked the fuck out tonight if that pig didn’t rob you, you'll get your day,” he reassured me.
Just then, our first guests began to arrive, and before I knew it, round 2 of the night was in full effect. I got a chance to talk with Ash and he said he would be down to play for me sometime, but I only spoke with him for a few minutes before we both got carried off in other directions. Deep in the night, many pills, tabs, and lines later for all of us, I noticed Manifest in the corner of the room talking to Enzo and Ash, but something didn't look right. Manifest was sweating profusely, and it seemed like he was starting to get upset about something, but Enzo and Ash were laughing.
I walked over to see what was going on. As I approached, I could hear Enzo saying, “Calm down bro it’s cool.”
“Yo, what's goin on?” I asked.
Manifest turned and looked at me and shouted, “They’re not who they say they are,” before pushing through the crowd and running away. Enzo and Ash erupted in laughter, but I followed after him, and he didn't stop until he got outside.
“Yo, wait up, what the fuck was that all about?” I asked.
“They are Illuminati bro! Ash and Enzo! Both of them!” he yelled with his eyes bulging out of his head.
“What are you talking about? Did they say something to you? Enzo is always fucking around with people when he's trippin,” I said.
“Yes, well, no... He didn't say anything directly, but I watched Ash shapeshift, right in front of me! They psychologically attacked me man! They were putting ideas in my head! It all makes sense, they were sent here as agents to disrupt the rave scene and you are creating a big problem for them with all the truth that you are speaking man! I'm telling you, they don't want any of this!” He shouted.
“Dude, you know I’m down with most of the shit we talk about, but you are sounding crazy right now. They have never tried to stop me or silence me. They do mad illegal shit, and they are my source, so it's not like they would be gathering evidence on me,” I said.
“I can't be here, I need to go,” he said before running off.
A moment or so later, Ash and Enzo came out.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Enzo asked.
“I don't know man, he was all freaked out. What did you guys say to him?” I asked.
“He was goin on about some deep shit, and I just started asking the most ridiculous questions as a joke. I'm trippin balls, I was just fucking around, ya know, havin fun. I didn't know the dude was gonna lose his shit. He was confusing the hell out of me with all that talk about “the universe” or whatever so I started talking in riddles back to him, and he freaked,” Enzo explained.
“Dude’s crazy as fuck bro. He was talkin about shapeshifters or somethin,” Ash said.
“Come on, let's get back to the party...Unless you want to run through the hood looking for him,” Enzo said.
I begrudgingly followed them back into the house. We spent the next 30 or so hours partying in that house with large groups of people rotating in and out through the weekend until Enzo’s stash ran out. Manifest never came back to the party, but I did get a message from his Facebook profile the next night. The message read, “Hey John, this is Richie’s sister Beth, you probably know him as MC Manifest. I am sorry for contacting you this way, but I don't have a Facebook of my own and didn't know how to get a hold of you. There is no easy way to say this, but some time over the weekend Richie jumped in front of a moving train and killed himself.”