After we finished eating, we walked back towards the house. We laughed at the lack of water at this wet party. Nevis and Austin suggested that we jump into the pool and start our own wet fete. Paris and I vehemently disagreed with their suggestion. First, the water didn’t look warm. Second, I refused to be seen as the crazy group of people that jumped in the tiny pool at a dead party without a close-by getaway car. Well, maybe it wouldn’t have been crazy to jump in the pool since it was supposed to be a wet party and we did have our bathing suits on, but the ability to easily leave the party after the entitled wet fun would have been essential.
Several people were standing near the back of the house, so we decided to move over there and wait for the party to start. There were a few speakers set up against the house, providing the backyard with music. The DJ was playing a good mix of reggae, soca, hip-hop, and r&b. Yet, no one was dancing. It wasn’t until 2am, when more people started to arrive, that the party finally began to get going. People were grinding, whining, and enjoying the music and the clear summer night.
Around 4am, party fatigue began to creep up on me. I felt myself getting tired. Desperately needing to sit down, I went inside the house and walked downstairs looking for a place to sit. Below the party, there was a large room with three unisex bathrooms—two connected to smaller adjoining rooms and one near the stairwell. Against the wall, there were a few seats. I sat down at an empty chair and before I knew it, I dozed off. I don’t know how long I was sleeping in that chair. But, the nap was exactly what I needed. When Paris found me in my lonely chair and woke me up, I was hit with the second wind I needed to jump and whine until morning. The party was livelier than when I left to take my party nap. The crowd seemed to have increased. People were dancing, sweating, jumping, and enjoying the thumping Caribbean sounds.
As I was getting back into the party groove, the DJ announced that soca singer Iwer George was at the party and was going to perform. Paris, Austin, Nevis, and I headed inside to get a view of Iwer George. Inside there were several people jumping and whining and carrying one in the dining area and the kitchen. The energy was visibly 10x higher inside the house than outside the house. As Iwer George’s voice poured from the speakers, the energy inside intensified. People started jumping faster and higher. Flags and rags were being waved. Then, Iwer George brought his performance down to the dining area and the party inside exploded into a full out bacchanal. It looked like a scene from carnival. There was an orgy of bodies whining, grinding, and slamming on each other. Women were pushing back their bumpers (booties). Men were jumping behind them, lifting up one of the women’s legs, or even picking them completely off the ground. Iwer seemed to be feeding off the energy of the people dancing around him as much as they were feeding off the sound of his voice over the pulsating soca rhythms. Not trying to miss out on the fun, Nevis and I jumped into the crowd dancing near Iwer as he sang “Whine Whine Whine Whine We LIKE IT!!!”.
Not too long after Iwer finished performing, the party ended. It was around 5am. The sun was rising. People were pouring out the house and making their way to the bottom of the circular driveway. Since the shuttles provided the only access to the party, everyone was stranded at this mansion in the woods, waiting for the shuttle to bring them back to their cars. Tired from a night of partying, several people were sitting on the driveway. Others were standing around either talking or looking in the distance for any signs of the shuttle. I stood and surveyed the scene. As I looked at the 100+ people dispersed across the driveway, I got a strong feeling that our assumption at the beginning of the party was right: we were the only people there dressed for a wet fete. I saw women dressed in designer jeans and stilettos and men dressed in designer jeans and sunglasses. No one but us looked like they were there for a wet and wild time. I would have been content if there were other people there dressed for a wet party and the promoters had been the ones that failed to turn the party into a wet party. But, that was not the case. The joke was on us. It seemed that everyone but us knew that the party was never ever going to be a wet party. BOOO!!! What a waste of $30 dollars.
Anyways, back to the story. Five minutes passed and there was no shuttle. Five more minutes passed and there was still no shuttle. About 20 minutes after the party ended, the first shuttle arrived and pandemonium broke out. Before the shuttle could reach the bottom of the hill, people ran towards it and swarmed it so the driver could drive any further. We didn’t bother moving from our spot at the bottom of the driveway. The shuttle was filled within 30 seconds. It drove down the hill, turned around, and drove away. Five minutes later, the second shuttle arrived. Wanting to get out of there, we ran with small crowd of people to the shuttle and boarded it. The shuttle ride back was quite the experience. What would you expect when a bunch of people are crammed into a small shuttle? I have seen interesting things on crowded public buses in Boston and New York, but this shuttle ride was hilarious.
Seated at the back of the shuttle, there was a guy, who clearly had a few drinks, holding a tin bucket that would be usually be used to hold ice and drinks. He had a heavy Caribbean accent and was yelling at people, while banging the bucket at against the back wall of the shuttle. At first, he was making jokes and talking to people at the back of the shuttle. But then he caught sight of a man trying to smoke on the shuttle and he started to yell at him, telling him to put out his cigarette. Other people around the smoking man chimed in and told them the man to put out his cigarette. The smoking man complied with everyone’s requests and put out his cigarette on the shuttle floor. If that wasn’t enough excitement, the man with the bucket thought it would be a good idea to entertain everyone with a song. He took the bucket and banged it against the wall making a soca beat, while he sang, “We not going home ‘til the sun come up”. People laughed as he sang his impromptu song.
As all of this was going on, the shuttle swerved, turned, and finally sped into the parking lot. Everyone piled out of the shuttle and walked toward their cars. The sounds of hip hop, soca, and reggae slowly started to fill the parking lot as people got into their cars and drove away. Although it was 7am, the party was far from over. It was finally carnival Saturday--event that I came to Atlanta to see. As we drove home, I looked forward to the bands, the costumes, the food, the jump-up, and the after-parties.
One Love.
