I stared out from the raised platform, my thoughts profoundly still. I felt completely calm from head to toe, a new sensation for me. I let go of anything in my mind for just a moment as I exclusively used my eyes to think for me. I wrapped my arms around my boyfriend’s neck and pulled him in close as I stood and watched the sunrise lifting its bright head over the horizon of scattered novelty sunglasses, discarded angel wings, and plastic rainbow-coloured bracelets.

Here, the peaceful morning was just beginning as the dotted crowd cleared out, heading slowly to the parking lot in a mass exodus. The last of the stragglers posed for photos with their friends donning peace signs while sticking their tongues out, hanging on to the last final moments in their shared sacred space.

It was almost 6am, and even after nearly a dozen hours on my feet — most of them spent dancing freely and without inhibitions — I wasn’t tired. Not in the slightest.

There wasn’t any chaos happening anywhere around me. All that remained now was a quiet and respectful amount of partygoers fading out from the evening’s climax with little energy left in their systems. The only sounds remaining were the crunches of shoes moving their way over piles of plastic cups and the murmurs of young friends sharing endearingly affectionate anecdotes with one another.

I had just finished my very first experience at Electric Daisy Carnival (EDC). And I already wanted more.

THE POWER OF SOMETHING NEW

What had I just experienced? I’d almost forgotten what I’d imagined this event would feel like before I’d arrived. Whatever picture I had in my head leading up to this weekend was now gone forever, replaced with the reality of just how impactful my time here had been.

I walked up the neverending series of stairs toward the parking lot, and as I reached the final step I turned around to look at the landscape behind me. This was my one last chance to visually appreciate the massive venue I’d just called my home for the past half week.

It felt hard to step away. I simply did not want to leave this magical wonderland. That distant feeling from youth of escaping to summer camp as a shy but curious child was returning to me now, but this time it was more powerful, more consuming, and more meaningful.

I felt entirely grateful — not for having the chance to be here necessarily, but for the change within me that I was already well aware of, growing within me like a warm, comforting beacon of light. Did I really feel anew because of some time spent with thousands of strangers listening to music?

Believe me, I didn’t quite understand it either. But really, it was more than just that.

If you’d told me a year earlier that I’d be standing in the middle of a motor speedway in Las Vegas watching the sunset and then seeing it rise again, wearing a garden of plastic flowers, and guzzling two figure cocktails made of equal parts vodka and RedBull, I would never have believed you. That frankly and simply just wasn’t me. None of it was, until now.

Not only did this all happen, this now was me. It was all real — I had just lost my mind for nearly 12 consecutive hours, made friends from all over the globe and from all walks of life, felt extreme happiness unparalleled to any feeling I’d experienced before, and also cried my eyes out from pure joy. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and for the first time ever, that was entirely alright.

I’d heard of people finding themselves at music festivals. It seemed completely ridiculous on paper, but now here I was experiencing this awakening within myself. Based on my own previous ideologies, I felt like a living, breathing cliché. I tried to consolidate my previous judgment with my current state of ecstacy.

I was filled to the brim with chemicals, alcohol, zero food sustenance, and a whole lot of emotions that were currently bubbling out of me as if I was in a non-religious equivalent of a confessional. I was now the subject of one of my own infamous eye rolls.

A SHADED PAST

When I first met the man who would become my boyfriend, he told me he was surprised I had a Lady Gaga tattoo and that I loved pop music. Apparently, I look a little bit snobby based upon first impression. Call it alternative, call it cynical — hell, call it whatever you want, really. This wasn’t the first time I was called out for looking like an indie rock snob.

I spent my late teens and early twenties listening to just that. Singers who are hard to understand, lyrics that are entirely sad and broken, and artists that maybe I didn’t really even like that much but just thought I should “try and get into” because it was what all my cool art school classmates were listening to.

Along with those pretenses came a certain disposition and attitude, I suppose. Listening to Elliott Smith probably contributed to my adolescent depression (or at least definitely didn’t help me out of it). Listening to sad singers not only made me sad, but also made me feel weird and distant towards most people.

In actuality, I grew up loving pop music. But spending a few years in a repressive relationship with a controlling boyfriend in my early 20s saw me switch over to snobby and sad music. After that relationship ran its course, I found solace in the same cheery pop tunes that I loved as a kid. I welcomed them back with open arms when the time came.

But the truth is, being cynical still ran in my bones for years. Even though my ex and I split, some remnants of that shadowy part of me still remained. Two years ago, I overheard a friend I’ve since parted ways with describe our friendship to a total stranger: “We’re those two assholes. We judge everything, we make fun of everything. We hate the same things. It’s how we bond.”

Yikes. Was that really me? I hoped not. But looking back, holy shit… it was. I’d established so much of my younger identity not just being sad and moping along with Morrissey, but also trying to build myself up again by finding fault in the world around me rather than finding the joy and beauty in it.

RECALCULATING

A different close friend that I hadn’t seen in a while was in town last week and asked me bluntly: “So, I have to ask. For someone that has traditionally had really good taste in music… EDM, really?”

There’s greatness all around us depending what lenses we choose to wear. I believe that now. I never really had an opinion on rave culture, but I can tell you I was far too much of a snob to ever even give it a try. The only EDM I’d listened to before was in songs that featured singers I already liked. Zedd with Paramore. Calvin Harris with Gwen Stefani. That was my gateway.

When I met Steve a year and a half earlier, our friendship started in the same way most do: we bonded over common interests, and exposed each other to interests that weren’t previously shared. Commonalities were amplified and separate interests were explored with curiosity and excitement.

Steve’s love for EDM caught on to me quite quickly. The first playlist he created for me included a lot of accessible, catchy tracks that fit right in amongst pop classic favourites. It was hook, line, and sinker — a clever method that helped ease me in to something I now enjoy on my own accord. When you love someone and they’re passionate about something, it’s an easy sell, I find.

Even so, leading up to EDC, a part of me was dreading the experience. Steve had personally attended the previous five years in a row and looked forward to it more than anything else in his annual calendar. To enjoy something this much was a lot of pressure and I was worried I wouldn’t feel the same way about it that he did.

On top of this, we were just coming off our longest stretch of time apart and I wanted to reconnect after the three-month gap by relaxing while wrapped up in each other’s arms, not staring blindly at stages for three days straight baking under the Las Vegas sun. How would I manage to stay entertained or even stay alive? Would I have the stamina to physically stand upright until 6am every morning?

DAY ONE

The first day, we arrived a few hours late. A small part of me felt like I was getting away with something by shaving a bit of time off the beginning of the festival. We stalled our arrival and I was more than okay with it. I thought this tactic would enhance my preservation qualities, and by the time my tired legs would have to drag themselves up the several flights of bleachers to the exit come sunrise of the first of the three days, I’d be relieved to not have an extra two hours’ worth of exhaust in my system.

But within the first hour, I was already annoyed with myself for postponing our arrival. It was so much fun here! There were bright colours everywhere! The sounds, the excitement, the energy… it was all so consuming, and I wanted it to wrap me up in its arms and cradle me in this fantastic rainbow dreamland forever. Even hours into the first day I was dreading the end of the third. But I did my best to stay present and soak up every moment.

As I walked around holding my love’s hand and enjoying the sights, I felt so alive. Everywhere I looked was a smiling face, a laughing pair of friends, a beautiful costume, or vibrant sounds of songs I loved. Being there with my love made it that much more special.

Aesthetically, what used to feel jarring and isolating now felt comforting and relatable. Rave culture wasn’t the tacky world I once sneered at. It was a beautiful, fully realized, aesthetically cohesive cornucopia.

Neon signs reading “Fuck Real Life” and “Are You Lost? Dance With Us!” were everywhere. The amount of care and precision that fellow ‘headliners’ (the name the promoter gives attendees) used in crafting their handmade costumes was inspiring. I loved noticing the details, pointing them out to Steve, and bonding with strangers over what they were wearing.

Normally I don’t enjoy going out of my way to talk to new people, but in this place I had no qualms talking to strangers. Going up to someone, complimenting what they were wearing, giving them a hug, trading bracelets, and bonding over a moment in time meant everything within the context of this experience and place and I was living for it.

GO HARD OR GO HOME

It’s hard to describe what hardstyle music is to anyone who hasn’t listened to it before. But even after experiencing it, I think it would be a tough thing for most people who know me to believe I enjoyed it. It’s loud, it’s aggressive, and it doesn’t really sound anything like what most people listen to.

Hardstyle is played specifically at the Wasteland stage at EDC. The dilapidated storage containers that act as a bridge into this area should be a signifier that this stage is something a bit different, but it’s still a shock to the system to enter this space and hear the gritty, extreme sounds pouring out of the speakers. It’s fast, it’s abrasive, and kind of, well, fucked up sounding. It’s also fun as hell and might be the pinnacle of my experience at EDC in terms of expectations versus outcome.

At Wasteland, hardstyle fans gather to hear old favourites and new discoveries. This music has a very specific type of sound. It’s also a niche world within the EDM community, and lovers of hardstyle band together to revel in its glory. As a newcomer, I was instantly kind of terrified, but within minutes, I found myself loving the aesthetic, loving the sound, and completely getting into the vibe.

Two grown men dressed as boy scouts found us in the crowd and embraced us, bringing us into their little crew just long enough to feel a bond. I remember thinking “The old me would have hated this.” But I wasn’t the old me anymore — I had just shed that pessimistic skin. I ripped it off in one solid swipe, and danced on top of it, grinding it into the asphalt with my sneakers obliterating it from existence.

Each stage at EDC has its own unique atmosphere. Among them is the dreamlike, twinkly vibe at Neon Garden, and the tech-savvy, house and trance-laden feel over at Circuit Grounds. We found ourselves at most of these stages throughout the weekend, making our way through the crowds, meeting momentary friends and living for these brief encounters.

People become your best friend for a fragment of time and then wander off into a crowd never to be seen again. It’s both deeply emotional but also absolutely inconsequential. It’s an amazing fleeting thing and a complete refresh on how human connections can and should impact us. We can and should treat complete strangers with respect even if they’re only in our personal universe for a fleeting moment. I’ll never forget learning this at EDC.

The people at EDC were kind, and they were inclusive. They banded together to help someone out who had partied too hard. They scoured the grounds helping each other look for lost belongings. They behaved in the way that felt strangely alien but also made you wonder why ‘real life’ can’t just be like this all the time. This was such a skewed, unrealistic version of real life, but in the best way. It was utopia — people consuming the same energy and living for the same goal.

SO NEW

The weeks after EDC finished, I missed it so much. But I didn’t long for it in a sad way. I did want to return to this place that had rebirthed my outlook on the world, but what was more important was the gratitude I had been given to be a small speck in that sea of participants.

I learned so much about myself at a music festival, and I’m absolutely proud to say that. I allowed myself the chance to try something new and I thrived in it. My expectations were shattered. Not only did I let go and have an amazing time, but I am also much better off now because of it.

As I walked to the car with the morning light behind me, I felt a stretching sensation pulling from my body from the place behind me. A stretchy cord tying me to this location that made me feel like I was being ripped away from somewhere I simply did not want to leave.

I knew that I had to return the next year. But I also knew that even if I didn’t, a piece of me was forever implanted in this time, in this moment, and in this place. But it had also implanted itself in me.

Having let go of my old cynicism while I was at EDC, I feel free now. I may not have the chance to wear wild costumes and frolic freely in a crowd on a daily basis but the essence of what I felt while I was there is what remains— the essence that helped me escape my old self and allow myself to evolve into someone new.