Alex Torres used to be able to be a carefree young man dancing the night away on Miami Beach. Now, his life is a jumble of boring, monotonous responsibility, and he says Ultra Music Festival is to blame.

“I just feel so betrayed,” Torres says, speaking from his non-corner office with a mediocre view. “In 1999, I was a 20-year-old stud at Ultra Music Festival. I could take my shirt off and catch every girl’s eye while I shuffled under the sun to Rabbit in the Moon. I’m 34 now, married with two kids. I’m fat. I’m creepy. What the hell happened?”

Torres explained that his Ultra Music Festival experience is a far cry from what it used to be. While he was familiar with nearly every electronic music artist in the early 2000s, he struggles to find even a few names he recognizes on this year’s lineup.

“Who the fuck is Kaskade[sic], anyway?” Torres points out. “How can you misspell Cascada and call yourself a music festival? How can you forget ‘Everytime we touch, I get this feeling…’ such a classic. And like, how can you forget the DJ before the ‘Tiesto’? Next you’re gonna tell me he doesn’t play trance!”

He laughs at the absurdity of his suggestion before continuing.

“…and when I went this year, things were so different. None of the 20 year old hotties wanted to talk to me. In 2001 they were fighting over me to the death! I know that it can’t be because I am older, much less good-looking, and have nothing to talk to them about, so it’s obviously the music festival is just attracting really lame people.”

But Alex Torres isn’t the only one who is upset with Ultra Music Festival. He insists that his friends have abandoned music festival life as well, mostly due to the increased responsibilities that Ultra has placed upon its attendees.

“They don’t even include a babysitter in the cost of admission, those greedy fucks,” Torres explains. “I didn’t have to worry about kids when I attended in 2004, why should I have to worry about them now? It’s almost as if getting older and entering a new phase of life is supposed to change my goals, habits, and lifestyle. Who does Ultra think they are, anyway?”

Torres could bear these burdens, however, if it weren’t for the huge increase in ticket prices. His fury is directed at the greed of festival organizers who insist on selfishly catering to every whim and desire of superstar DJs.

“I don’t care if headliners want private jets and 50 bottles of Dom Perignon these days. Why is that my problem?” Torres wonders. “Just because DJs are total prima donnas now doesn’t mean I shouldn’t pay the same ticket price as I did 15 years ago. I’ll never blame artists, their management, or their agents for wanting to be rich and famous. Promoters and their families don’t deserve any compensation for their role.”

Torres continues fuming at the deplorable qualities of music festival promoters, entering a trance-like rage as he contemplates the depth of their greedy ways.

“I just can’t believe that anyone would put up with it. Why should I have to pay more to attend a larger and higher-quality event? I want huge, internationally-renown musicians to charge the same amounts to perform as they did when they first started making music. And if they don’t, tough shit.”

Ultra Music Festival has yet to respond to complaints like those put forth by Mr. Torres. They remain silent on how their music festival can possibly fail to withstand the effects of time and changing musical tastes and be so disappointing to its once loyal attendees.