No one was who they were before, everyone was free and alive and fifteen kinds of ecstatic. The lid blew off, the steam gushed out. A thousand, thousand, thousand, exciting moments happened all at once. Laughter thundered off the walls and filled us up, emptied us out, smashed us flat as pancakes and rolled us down the street.
I have more video from last Saturday night than I do of any single day in Turkey and I can't post any of it because it's video of people I love at their most naked, raw and jubilant. I found one tiny snippet to show you, the tamest of the lot.
The photos below are windows into the best party I have ever attended. Nothing in my experience has come close to the sheer unbridled release I witnessed and felt last Saturday night. A dozen variables of timing, circumstance and luck all lined up impossibly, improbably and perfectly. The result was a mass miracle.
We danced on chairs until they were splinters. We ate everything within reach and slurped each others drinks all over our mouths. We called the tunes and we turned them up and up. We barked laughter in each others faces like people discovering their sense of humor and lungs simultaneously.
Then we crashed across town like giddy boulders, passengers to the relentless momentum of the night, careening off hard surfaces, joyous bingo balls in a city-sized tumbler.
When we vaulted through the doors of the dance club, everything opened up to us at once and accepted us as the throbbing center of the place. Our dancing was frantic and unselfconscious. From outside we looked like people angry at their shoes who needed to celebrate how high they could stretch their arms while shouting the words to songs they didn't know.
Sarah and I dumped ourselves out like wheelbarrows Saturday night.
Holy Methuselah Fairfax Simpson, did we dump ourselves out.
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