"Holy Shit -- What Have We Done?" Trance Atlantic 2, pgs. 94-95 David Prince Snow. Rain. Ice. Mud. Wisconsin. And then... Cars. Vans. Trucks. People. Lots of people. Tents. Fires. Music -- sweet techno music. Dancing. Grooving. Endless movement. THe best DJs in the universe. Drums. Foood. Hugs. Friends. Strangers. No sleep. No time. And then, Saturday night... Forty degrees. Sweating. Ecstatic. Naked. On top of the speakers. In front of 2000 people. Next, the unexpected... Cop. Cop car. Go for a drive. Threats: "You punks from Chicago and Milwaukee don't come up here and fuck with my county. This is my county. I work an eight-hour shift. That's how long I work. Because of you assholes, I've been working 14 hour shifts. I should be home watching TV, but because of you punks, I'm out here. I could arrest you, I could throw you in jail and you'd have to wait until Tuesday for the judge to let you out. You might get hurt in jail. Now you go back up there and turn the music off or I'm coming in there to turn it off myself. And if I have to do that, I'm going to find you..." Response: Giggles. Laughter. High, very high. Some serious shit. But so much fun. The best fun ever. Holy shit -- what have we done? We did it -- we invaded our own land and took it over; we established our won bullshit-free zone and for 42 hours it was ours alone. We brought the best music in the world back to the land and our people used the music as lubrication for their minds and souls. We reprogrammed the mainframes; we set the controls for the heart of the sun; we fired up the bus and put it in overdrive. We have ourselves a proper education and we all learned more than we expected. We created our own realities and revelled in them. We went further than we ever believed was possible. And once we got there -- we stayed. And then we did it all again. One year and one month later. We have to... it is necessary, it works, it grows, it metamorphosizes. It becomes a rallying cry, a political cause, a religion. Going further -- even further -- is a way of life. Holy shit -- what have we done? You've been there: out of space, out of time, out of your mind. In a field or a dark city crevice. In the middle of thousands of people, intrinsically connected to each one of them, yet completely alone. Understanding everything but knowing nothing. Transformed, abducted, spun out of control. These are the monents we live for, the little paradigms of existence that make the rest of time seem so funny and so light. The key to all of theis, of course, can be found in the tiny spaces between the beats. Look for it next time you're dancing. Close your eyes, peek behind a melody, and peel back a bit of rhythm. _It_ lives there. You are not alone. We are on the same path. It happens all over the place. It even happens... in Wisconsin.