We imagined spending a quite Sunday afternoon in the park. Let's pack a blanket, our books. I'll make salad, you bring a bottle of white wine. Maybe we will play frisbee.

We rode out to St. John's to lie under the beautiful bridge and found, not a quiet park, but a rave festival. I'm not kidding. A fucking day time, family oriented rave. The volume. The monotonous beat. The hoolahoops. The trance dance. This was not the plan. But it was hot and the ride was long so we settled in to eat our lunch. Before long I was bobbing my head and we had made friends with the neighbors. Rave folk are really nice. We even made up our Rave Personas. I would be Purple, with dyed black hair, one side braided with colorful ribbons, the other twisted into a frisky bun. Shimmery makeup, spaghetti strap gold mini with bike shorts underneath, and flared striped leg warmers. He would be Fawn with a high ponytail dyed orange at the tip. One eyebrow bleached. Anklet. Dressed in buckskin.

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