All of a sudden I found myself hauling ass down the freeway to some warehouse party at a completely unknown destination. The darkness increased heavily around us & it became obvious we were headed to the middle of fucking nowhere. As I glanced back I saw the city lights gaining rapid distance with every glowing street light passing overhead. Nervousness briefly knotted in my stomach; I’d never been this far out of Los Angeles before. I was on vacation & it was a Friday night so I just decided on the the ‘fuck it’ mentality. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was heading to one of DTLA’s most notorious after hour parties.
It only took one step through the door for me to realize I was (somehow, accidentally) in the middle of the gnarliest late night party scene LA had to offer. I think my friend Jazper referred to it as “the core of the realm” or something. Think modern day Party Monster with a turnt up as fuck, borderline ratchet twist. It was undoubtedly one of the most ridiculous party I’d ever been to. The party, naturally, was Ham On Everything.
Held in the buttfuck middle of nowhere (aka South Central) the party resided in a massively abandoned warehouse that was hidden behind similar dimly lit & decaying buildings. We had to follow the fragmented crowd of people to find the entrance. Once we got inside I noticed there were no windows, just a single door to the entrance & one for the exist. The air felt recycled & smelt of salt & body odor. Beer was spilt all over the floor. The makeshift bar was set up with some towels & ice coolers with 2 babley dudes bartending in the corner. They only sold Colt 45. You get the point.
I guess ‘that one guy from Slumdog Millionaire’ was there. Idk though it was honestly hard to tell due to the excessive amounts of people, twerking, lasers & blasting music. Everywhere I turned I saw people basically dry humping or making out. It was strange, sexy & completely fucking bizarre. One of the DJs we were with snuck in a bottle of D-grade champagne, which we chugged outside while smoking blunts with the random thugs around us. Miller kept saying “ I can’t believe you came to a twerk party in a vintage KISS shirt.” [I looked a bit out of place, to say the absolute least.]
[bag of coke I found on the ground] [no I didn’t do any I don’t have a deathwish] [coulda been meth for all I know]
After almost 2 hours of hot sweaty madness we decided to Uber back to the city – which, normally, wouldn’t be a huge hassle – but it was approaching 2 in the morning & we were all the way out in South Central. No one would pick us up until almost 3am. Only seconds after being in the car the boys were already on their phones getting the address to the next party.
We ended up back at this strange art studio/loft/living space [whateverthefuck] downtown where we initially started our debauchery. Half the people from HAM were there, still turning up, still ‘thriving.’ The party was themed ‘goth kawaii twerk rave,’ if that puts anything into perspective for you. There was another makeshift bar & each room was a different color. The main room over looked the streets of downtown & had a purple glow to it. A huge random bed was in the center of the room. The DJ played in the corner & people rubbed asses until we had to crack the window due to excessive heat. The other room was green & the only thing in it was a fully pitched camping tent which people were casually snorting drugs & making out in. The bathroom sink had a yellow liquid that oozed into the drain from the running nicotine of the cigarettes that were damp & left behind. The rest of the space consisted of pitch-black narrow hallways leading to mysterious rooms I didn’t have the energy explore. [it was breaching 4am at this point, anyways.]
Everyone here seemed like they were dressed to make a statement. Girls with green hair. Boys in sheer lady tights. This one guy had his face painted like a cat. This one chick brought her dog. Her fucking DOG to the party. His collar was attatched to her choker necklaces which, miraculously, also doubled as a collar. Dog collars are apparently a thing in the DTLA after hours scene, ‘cause I’m pretty sure her friend was wearing one too. The dog ran about the party while everyone picked it up, danced with it & acted like it wasn’t even ‘a thing.’
The last thing I remember was Miller looking over to me with this wicked smile stretched across his face as he said “ALL THE FREAKS ARE OUT TONIGHT!”