Ours is not to reason why, but when.

Much like acclaimed musician, philosopher and scientist Pitbull, I went “Back In Time” last night. Toronto has a semi-regular event called Chronologic, a dance party spanning the years of 1890 to 2017. What does 1890s dance music sound like? NO IDEA. The event started at 10pm, moving forward through the years towards 2017. I’d wager very few people arrive early enough to hear the good ol’ baroque-n beats. By the time we got there (after hanging out, catching up and downing a few Lokoschewitz’ (Four Loko and Manishcewitz, obviously)), close to 11pm, we’d already reached the 60s or so. Some choice Motown tracks informed us we were in the right place. Without further ado, bullet points:

  • Since the playlist spanned such a massive period of time, it gave the DJs so many endless gems to work with. I’m seriously not trying to belittle anything in saying that low hanging fruit was the name of the game. Every track seemed to be a time tested dancefloor classic.
  • The douchebag quotient was astonishingly low. I didn’t see anyone having fun at the expense of others. The crowd was generally respectful, with no pushing or assorted friction.
  • People really came to dance, which I guess was the point. Given the lack of specific genre cohesion, the event required some ability to move along to a range of beats and styles. Something like that takes commitment, at least more than a focused playlist. Some dancers though, knew their shit big time.
  • At some stage the projector at the back of the stage was screening game footage from the 1983 Nintendo Entertainment System game Track and Field. On one hand it was quirky and neat to watch in the background. On the other, you feel so powerless watching people who are average at video games. If you feel like you could do better, there’s almost a phantom itch imploring you to get your hands on the controller.
  • People were friendly and well behaved, but concurrently I’m not sure I’ve been on a dancefloor with so much broken glass. Was it just that attendees were super drunk and clumsy? Or were staff not hyper vigilant about clearing the mess on the floor?
  • At one point my friend and I climbed up to the stage to dance along with twenty or so others. As I got up, a small shard of glass stuck in my hand. A woman offered to pull it out with her self proclaimed tiny hands, averting tragedy. At some stage later I looked down and my hand was covered in blood. Worried about getting it on my clothes (personal well-being was nowhere near the top of my concerns), I cleaned it in the bathroom and it stopped bleeding rather rapidly. If this is a sign I’m becoming Wolverine, I couldn’t be more stoked.
  • It’s not uncommon at dance events for a stranger to come up to me and compliment me on my dancing. Something along the lines of “Hey man, I’ve been seeing you dance the whole night and it looks like you’re having a blast. It’s awesome.” It’s true that I don’t take myself seriously when I dance and focus on having an awesome night. I’ve never detected a tone of sarcasm, they seem genuine every time. It’s the most delightful thing. Last night it happened twice. I was understandably chuffed.
  • I think I’ve deeply underestimated how much Britney’s “Hit Me Baby One More Time” crushes a dancefloor. The whole place collectively lost its shit. “Toxic” came later and was suitably huge, but didn’t dominate to the same extent.
  • At some point in the night I noticed a massive sweat stain taking up around 60% of my shirt. By the time the event finished (over three hours of dancing later), my clothes felt like I’d been swimming. Pants soaked entirely through. The best way to get your cardio on.
  • Pitbull’s “Back In Time” was notably absent.

Chronologic. It’s a trip!

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