Against our better instincts, we the editors of THUMP decided to allow one young woman to lock herself into Brooklyn's Output nightclub for the entire duration of their 24-hour New Years blowout. The line-up was a who's who of underground house and techno favorites, from Berlin-based Panormabar favorite tINI to hometown heros Taimur & Fahad and Detroit revivalist Jimmy Edgar.None of that mattered to Lori, who, after writing the article, later admitted that she doesn't even like electronic music, but wanted to explore her own limits at marathon techno levels of intensity. We are happy to report she was not (physically) damaged by the experience, though we may have to foot her therapy bills for the next few months. You may also know that the Williamsburg techno temple doesn't allow any photography within its walls… so your imagination will have to suffice.10:30PM In preparation for the evening, my friend Briana hustles a drug dealer into giving us way too much cocaine and molly for way too little money. Heads up: there's nothing like a little fake birthday to win over your drug dealer's heart. He has us meet him at Wreck Room, which—just so you know—is the sketchiest bar in Bushwick. We head to the ladies room, which appears to be like Grand Central station for drug-related business transactions, where Briana and I dodge puddles and huddle into the only functioning stall. We are immediately barged in on by a man in a moustache and semi-formal wear. We attempt to kick him out in a fit of yelling. In hindsight, we should have noticed the fedora and silk vest and realized this dude was our drug dealer.
11:00PM Arrival. The line reaches an entire avenue block from the club down to Kent Avenue. With a little persuasion we slide past the bouncers and walk in as the bartenders are still setting up.
11:20PM We step foot on the dancefloor. Immediately Briana is accosted by a large gentleman who has not been pacing himself. He dance-hugs her but he is so big that when he hugs her she disappears into him for a moment.
11:50PM I finally look up and notice the decor. From every ledge, railing, and balcony hangs a bouquet of frayed white fabric strips—perhaps to mimic the winter scene? This did not turn out that well. It looks like shredded diapers.
11:58PM I have come to realize we are not dealing with the brightest humans. The crowd in the main room does their New Years' countdown two minutes early, and they don't even seem to notice when the DJ announces the correct countdown with a soundclip of Sesame Street's Count Dracula.
12:31AM I'm already starting to feel a little haggard. Just sitting in here is exhausting. I follow Briana into the bathroom, where the bathroom attendant/vigilante immediately kicks me out of her stall.
12:32AM Waiting for Briana outside of the bathroom a miniature latin dude sits next to me and begins to say things that are supposed to be seductive or something. A new rejection tactic springs into my mind and I speak only Greek to him—I only know four words, but nobody has to know that. It still takes him four minutes to leave.
12:40AM Briana and I go back to our booth for a bit of privacy. Thankfully it is barely hidden by the low-hanging white fabric. The middle-aged couple sitting on the other side appear to be cowering in fear.
12:55AM Our first Emergency Medical Services sighting of the night. The bright side of this is that by the time they're fixed up and fully hydrated, they could probably make it back in time for the last leg of the party.
1:10AM I think I see Lena Dunham.
1:45AM Nobody knows what DJ is playing. Nobody cares what DJ is playing.
2:10AM We hear that Lil Kim is the secret guest at 285 Kent, the warehouse venue down the street, so we decide to dip for a little bit because one can't pass up an opportunity to fulfill their childhood fantasy.
2:12AM When you go to Output there is a $4 mandatory coat check. Therefore Briana and I decide to leave our coats checked while we run outside and directly grab a cab to 285.
2:13AM THERE ARE NO CABS. WE ARE IN LESS-THAN-DRESSES IN THE BITTER COLD AND THERE ARE NO CABS. As a Volvo station wagon pulls up to a stop sign Briana runs up to the driver's window and knocks furiously on it. The young man cracks open his back window. After coercing him to drive us, he unlocks the door and we dive in. The three of us discuss the night's events and as he pulled up to the corner we hastily said our goodbye and ran into the warehouse.
2:30AM It is a sweatbox full of friends in there, and I decide to roll face for the second time in my life (the first time was a blackedout whirlwind of makeouts in port-a-potties so I was being really optimistic here).
2:55AM Hard. We are going very, very hard now. DJ Rashad is playing a remix of "We Can't Stop." I run to the bar to buy fireball shots for everyone on the condition that they all yell the lyrics with me.
3:04AM I just watched a girl make out with four different men in the order of A, B, C, A, D, A, B, A/B, C.
4:00AM Thirsty. Not in the 2013 metaphorical meaning of thirsty, but I actually need some water, like, badly.
4:05AM I went to sit down in the green room and get some air but there's already a large man passed out on the couch and a girl silently staring into the corner. I have a strong and sudden urge to GTFO.
4:06AM Lil Kim is a no-show so we grab a cab.
4:15AM Back at Output, the crowd is very dense and the entire place has turned into a dancefloor—mezzanines, stairwells, tables, etc. It is a battlefield on the dancefloor. Think, mall-jungle scene in Mean Girls.
5:00AM I ask a bouncer what was the worst thing that had happened thus far, and he says, "I never should have let my mom in."
5:20AM Fuck, Briana lost the rest of our molly.
6:00AM A great time to do tequila shots.
6:10AM I'm standing against the bar as a man comes up to talk to me but I effortlessly pull the Greek card again. He goes to shake my hand and accidentally puts his fingers in my drink. He tries to apologize but I am fully committed to my I-only-speak-Greek-I'm-confused act and he offers to buy me another drink. He is met with more confused stares on my part until he opens his wallet and hands me a $10 bill. Sweet.
6:11AM I drink the drink he stuck his fingers in and pocket the $10. Alcohol kills germs.
6:50AM I'm still standing at the bar with Bri—well, barely standing—and an equally impaired woman in a sequined maxi dress comes up to us and asks if we want any molly. "Yes please!" we exclaim. "Hahaha, too bad I ate all mine before I got here," she says. She then huddles us up to tell us that we're useless whores but if we ever want to have a threesome we can totally call her.
7:20AM Bri and I find our way back to our initial cozy table upstairs and as soon as we sit down a 50-something bald man in all white straddles our table and gives it a lapdance. We did not tip him and this made him angry.
7:40AM All the attractive and/or tolerable people have left.
7:50AM We decide to go see the sun—greet the morning, as they say. When we make it upstairs the roof deck is partitioned off and the only outdoor area is a small astroturf patch with tall, white walls that only allowed the sunlight to beam down directly. Is this how Noah felt on the ark?
8:00AM A charming representative of Output that I was scheduled to meet with contacts me. She gives me way too many additional drink tickets and brings us to meet the persons responsible for the party. The owner of Output responds to all of my questions with a hearty smile and vague answers, and as we walk backstage we are introduced to the other sponsors of this evening's charades who evade more of my questions and casually dance away from me.
8:03AM Also a great time to do tequila shots.
8:40AM We find ourselves back in our original booth, our comfort zone. The crowd is beginning to thin. Half of the remaining faces have been there since the doors opened.
9:00AM "This is the best. So poppin'!" are the last words from the girl next to me before she leans over and falls asleep.
9:20AM I ask a nearby security guard about the strangest thing he's seen all night. He says, "Smells, so many smells happening."
10:00AM There is a dance circle of men in front of us all wearing cardigans with no shirt beneath—is this going to be a "thing" in 2014? They are doing a variation of the cotton-eyed-joe, but to evil, pummeling techno. Will this also be a thing?
10:30AM People are losing their minds. Men have decided to take off their shoes to dance.
10:45AM Briana and I are completely sober at this point. We have drink tickets and cocaine but are in an immobile state of exhausted paralysis.
10:50AM I am told that Taimur & Fahad are in the midst of a back-to-back set, and whilst I am completely unqualified to speak on quality techno music—hell, I dont even like techno music—I seem to remember that these dudes were my favorite?
11:10AM We have spotted our second napper. I wish I had a Cliff bar.
11:30AM A dance circle quickly escalates into a dance-off (imagine if Step Up 7 was cast with middle-aged men wearing Ed Hardy shirts).
11:45AM The loser of the dance-off slumps next to me along the wall: "I, I just, I fell out of tempo," he explains to me.
12:00PM Briana surveys the crowd: "This is like level 4 of unwanted men," as she gestures to two men in cowboy hats.
12:08PM Briana is done. "I feel like I'm in that movie where James Franco cuts his own limb off."
12:10PM JK, not done, more tequila shots.
12:15PM At this point you can start to identify the "fresh blood"—those who just came from their warm apartments to wholesomely enjoy the day's music. They are easy to identify by the frightened looks on their faces when greeted by the marathon overnight crowd.
12:30PM We wince and step outside into daylight and straight to the nearest barbeque establishment.
12:45PM We scarf down some cheesy grits and pulled pork, charge our phones and let the ringing settle into our ears. We look out the window and see children on the sidewalk, a horrifying sight. Once outside of Output and out of range of the bass it feels like our muscles are tensing up due to the lack of rhythmic massaging from the clubs's massive sub woofers. We quickly develop incapacitating migraines. Or maybe we're just hungover already?
1:00PM We make our way back into the club and as soon as we make it past the threshold the tapping untz and surging swell of electronica proves to be too much for me. Tears start to stream down my face. I have cracked. The 24-hour party challenge has broken me. Without a word, Briana and I both walk over to coatcheck, recount our posessions, and drag our lifeless bodies to the nearest subway station. Slumped against each other in last night's dresses, the homely, middle-aged tourist couple across from us blatantly takes iPhone pictures of us and that's that.Total time lasted: 14 hours.Lori Trigonis has few regrets in her life but is proud to have shared this one with you. Follow her at @kaylorikay for even more unbecoming quips.
11:00PM Arrival. The line reaches an entire avenue block from the club down to Kent Avenue. With a little persuasion we slide past the bouncers and walk in as the bartenders are still setting up.
11:20PM We step foot on the dancefloor. Immediately Briana is accosted by a large gentleman who has not been pacing himself. He dance-hugs her but he is so big that when he hugs her she disappears into him for a moment.
11:50PM I finally look up and notice the decor. From every ledge, railing, and balcony hangs a bouquet of frayed white fabric strips—perhaps to mimic the winter scene? This did not turn out that well. It looks like shredded diapers.
11:58PM I have come to realize we are not dealing with the brightest humans. The crowd in the main room does their New Years' countdown two minutes early, and they don't even seem to notice when the DJ announces the correct countdown with a soundclip of Sesame Street's Count Dracula.
12:31AM I'm already starting to feel a little haggard. Just sitting in here is exhausting. I follow Briana into the bathroom, where the bathroom attendant/vigilante immediately kicks me out of her stall.
12:32AM Waiting for Briana outside of the bathroom a miniature latin dude sits next to me and begins to say things that are supposed to be seductive or something. A new rejection tactic springs into my mind and I speak only Greek to him—I only know four words, but nobody has to know that. It still takes him four minutes to leave.
12:40AM Briana and I go back to our booth for a bit of privacy. Thankfully it is barely hidden by the low-hanging white fabric. The middle-aged couple sitting on the other side appear to be cowering in fear.
12:55AM Our first Emergency Medical Services sighting of the night. The bright side of this is that by the time they're fixed up and fully hydrated, they could probably make it back in time for the last leg of the party.
1:10AM I think I see Lena Dunham.
1:45AM Nobody knows what DJ is playing. Nobody cares what DJ is playing.
2:10AM We hear that Lil Kim is the secret guest at 285 Kent, the warehouse venue down the street, so we decide to dip for a little bit because one can't pass up an opportunity to fulfill their childhood fantasy.
2:12AM When you go to Output there is a $4 mandatory coat check. Therefore Briana and I decide to leave our coats checked while we run outside and directly grab a cab to 285.
2:13AM THERE ARE NO CABS. WE ARE IN LESS-THAN-DRESSES IN THE BITTER COLD AND THERE ARE NO CABS. As a Volvo station wagon pulls up to a stop sign Briana runs up to the driver's window and knocks furiously on it. The young man cracks open his back window. After coercing him to drive us, he unlocks the door and we dive in. The three of us discuss the night's events and as he pulled up to the corner we hastily said our goodbye and ran into the warehouse.
2:30AM It is a sweatbox full of friends in there, and I decide to roll face for the second time in my life (the first time was a blackedout whirlwind of makeouts in port-a-potties so I was being really optimistic here).
2:55AM Hard. We are going very, very hard now. DJ Rashad is playing a remix of "We Can't Stop." I run to the bar to buy fireball shots for everyone on the condition that they all yell the lyrics with me.
3:04AM I just watched a girl make out with four different men in the order of A, B, C, A, D, A, B, A/B, C.
4:00AM Thirsty. Not in the 2013 metaphorical meaning of thirsty, but I actually need some water, like, badly.
4:05AM I went to sit down in the green room and get some air but there's already a large man passed out on the couch and a girl silently staring into the corner. I have a strong and sudden urge to GTFO.
4:06AM Lil Kim is a no-show so we grab a cab.
4:15AM Back at Output, the crowd is very dense and the entire place has turned into a dancefloor—mezzanines, stairwells, tables, etc. It is a battlefield on the dancefloor. Think, mall-jungle scene in Mean Girls.
5:00AM I ask a bouncer what was the worst thing that had happened thus far, and he says, "I never should have let my mom in."
5:20AM Fuck, Briana lost the rest of our molly.
6:00AM A great time to do tequila shots.
6:10AM I'm standing against the bar as a man comes up to talk to me but I effortlessly pull the Greek card again. He goes to shake my hand and accidentally puts his fingers in my drink. He tries to apologize but I am fully committed to my I-only-speak-Greek-I'm-confused act and he offers to buy me another drink. He is met with more confused stares on my part until he opens his wallet and hands me a $10 bill. Sweet.
6:11AM I drink the drink he stuck his fingers in and pocket the $10. Alcohol kills germs.
6:50AM I'm still standing at the bar with Bri—well, barely standing—and an equally impaired woman in a sequined maxi dress comes up to us and asks if we want any molly. "Yes please!" we exclaim. "Hahaha, too bad I ate all mine before I got here," she says. She then huddles us up to tell us that we're useless whores but if we ever want to have a threesome we can totally call her.
7:20AM Bri and I find our way back to our initial cozy table upstairs and as soon as we sit down a 50-something bald man in all white straddles our table and gives it a lapdance. We did not tip him and this made him angry.
7:40AM All the attractive and/or tolerable people have left.
7:50AM We decide to go see the sun—greet the morning, as they say. When we make it upstairs the roof deck is partitioned off and the only outdoor area is a small astroturf patch with tall, white walls that only allowed the sunlight to beam down directly. Is this how Noah felt on the ark?
8:00AM A charming representative of Output that I was scheduled to meet with contacts me. She gives me way too many additional drink tickets and brings us to meet the persons responsible for the party. The owner of Output responds to all of my questions with a hearty smile and vague answers, and as we walk backstage we are introduced to the other sponsors of this evening's charades who evade more of my questions and casually dance away from me.
8:03AM Also a great time to do tequila shots.
8:40AM We find ourselves back in our original booth, our comfort zone. The crowd is beginning to thin. Half of the remaining faces have been there since the doors opened.
9:00AM "This is the best. So poppin'!" are the last words from the girl next to me before she leans over and falls asleep.
9:20AM I ask a nearby security guard about the strangest thing he's seen all night. He says, "Smells, so many smells happening."
10:00AM There is a dance circle of men in front of us all wearing cardigans with no shirt beneath—is this going to be a "thing" in 2014? They are doing a variation of the cotton-eyed-joe, but to evil, pummeling techno. Will this also be a thing?
10:30AM People are losing their minds. Men have decided to take off their shoes to dance.
10:45AM Briana and I are completely sober at this point. We have drink tickets and cocaine but are in an immobile state of exhausted paralysis.
10:50AM I am told that Taimur & Fahad are in the midst of a back-to-back set, and whilst I am completely unqualified to speak on quality techno music—hell, I dont even like techno music—I seem to remember that these dudes were my favorite?
11:10AM We have spotted our second napper. I wish I had a Cliff bar.
11:30AM A dance circle quickly escalates into a dance-off (imagine if Step Up 7 was cast with middle-aged men wearing Ed Hardy shirts).
11:45AM The loser of the dance-off slumps next to me along the wall: "I, I just, I fell out of tempo," he explains to me.
12:00PM Briana surveys the crowd: "This is like level 4 of unwanted men," as she gestures to two men in cowboy hats.
12:08PM Briana is done. "I feel like I'm in that movie where James Franco cuts his own limb off."
12:10PM JK, not done, more tequila shots.
12:15PM At this point you can start to identify the "fresh blood"—those who just came from their warm apartments to wholesomely enjoy the day's music. They are easy to identify by the frightened looks on their faces when greeted by the marathon overnight crowd.
12:30PM We wince and step outside into daylight and straight to the nearest barbeque establishment.
12:45PM We scarf down some cheesy grits and pulled pork, charge our phones and let the ringing settle into our ears. We look out the window and see children on the sidewalk, a horrifying sight. Once outside of Output and out of range of the bass it feels like our muscles are tensing up due to the lack of rhythmic massaging from the clubs's massive sub woofers. We quickly develop incapacitating migraines. Or maybe we're just hungover already?
1:00PM We make our way back into the club and as soon as we make it past the threshold the tapping untz and surging swell of electronica proves to be too much for me. Tears start to stream down my face. I have cracked. The 24-hour party challenge has broken me. Without a word, Briana and I both walk over to coatcheck, recount our posessions, and drag our lifeless bodies to the nearest subway station. Slumped against each other in last night's dresses, the homely, middle-aged tourist couple across from us blatantly takes iPhone pictures of us and that's that.Total time lasted: 14 hours.Lori Trigonis has few regrets in her life but is proud to have shared this one with you. Follow her at @kaylorikay for even more unbecoming quips.