The Best Party I've Ever Been To

Anonymous

The best party I've ever been to took place on New Years Eve, 2002/2003 in Margaret River, a spectacular winery region on the south west coast of Australia. At the time my two best friends and I were in the middle of our Great Aussie Road Trip, and this party was one of a very many highlights.

We had received some awesome pills as a Christmas present from Dan, a great guy Sarita had hooked up with at the Solar Eclipse Festival a few weeks before. He flew from Sydney to Perth to spend Christmas with us. We picked him up from Perth Airport a couple of days before the 25th, and spent a very drunken night with him and a bunch of sailors in Fremantle. At about two in the morning, and with nowhere to stay, we decided to drive the three hours from Perth to Margs, with me at the wheel. Stupid, yes. I was white-knuckled the whole way, it was a wet night and the road down to Margs is notorious for wandering wild-life. One big roo would have completely wiped out Mr Fabulous (our 1979 Toyota Corolla) and his precious cargo. Just outside of Margs I started to relax when I saw the flashing lights of a police car. Despite the fact that I was obviously over the limit, had three comatosed passengers, an un-roadworthy car and Dan's massive surfboard wedged between the two front seats and coming out one of the back windows, the cop let me go on the assurance that we were going home and straight to bed.

I digress. So we had the great pills. Anneliese had to work until about twelve, but we had synchronised watches and planned to synchro-drop at 11:30pm, Anneliese at work, and Sarita and I at Caves, an amazing old pub that everybody in Margs was going to for the countdown before heading off in all directions for house parties. The pill kicked in quickly and I had a couple of e-spews. An e-spew is a pretty common side affect of a pill. It's not that you necessarily feel nauseous, and the e-spew is not totally unpleasant. It's like your body is just so excited at the prospect of a great night and the only way it can express this excitement is through vomit. Beautiful really.

Twelve o'clock came and Sarita and I had to pick up Anneliese from Driftwood, her restaurant. I insisted that I was ok to drive, so got into the front seat, drove a wobbly hundred metres, pulled over, turned to Sarita and said; 'Um, I think you'd better drive mate.'

We took off and I started getting that special e-spew feeling again so turned my head and threw up, discretely so I thought, in the space between the door and my seat. Then I sat up as if nothing had happened. After a moment Sarita looks at me and says; 'mate, did you just throw up in the car?'

Me: '(long pause) . . . . yep.' Sarita, who at this point I had known for about one month, it still one of my best friends.

We found Anneliese and quickly got the hell out of Driftwood, they were having a fancy dress party and it was a little overwhelming for us in our drugged state. We headed back to Caves to pick up Katie, the high school friend whose backyard and caravan we were staying in, and her housemate Emily. Em had got the word on THE house party and we all piled into the car.

Sarita put on 'Moon Safari' by French boys Air, an inspired choice, and we drive along the dark country road in almost complete silence, letting the music surround and envelop us. In my minds eye I can still see the view I had, through the dirty windscreen, from where I sat on the middle back seat. The only light around was coming from Mr Fab's headlights, and they lit up the trees and the surrounding bush in the most fantastic way. With stoned insight someone said 'It's a forrest tunnel!', and it really was.

After what was for me an indeterminable amount of time (could have been five minutes, could have been an hour) we arrived at the house, drove up the long driveway, parked, and listened. No music, no lights, no people. We waited a while, then began discussing other options; going back to Caves or to some other parties we'd heard rumours of. Then suddenly, right before our eyes, about thirty pairs of headlights began coming up the driveway in a continuous stream. We watched with our mouths open, our stomachs fluttering; we'd found THE party.

What can you say about the best party of your life to someone who wasn't there? Not much that's of interest I suppose! Balmy West Coast summer night. Great people. Great music. Spectacular location deep in the Margaret River hinterland. We ran in to an English guy who had been at the Solar Eclipse Festival and had captured the eclipse on his video camera. We followed him around for a while, begging to see the footage 'just one more time.' The rest of the night we just danced our asses off, loving life and each other and feeling like, nay, knowing that we were, the luckiest goddamn people on earth. We left at eight in the morning and went straight to the beach for a swim, the cool, crystal clear water washing us clean of the night's excesses.