Supersize that party. How else to put it? Make it triple
extra-large. Make the energy so intense the paint peels off the
walls. Pack the room with so many people, so many pretty people, so
many fierce people, so many people with nothing to do on a Monday
but dance away the first day of spring. You've got Abel at Alegria
Only a week ago, we were in Miami, Abel at the helm and that party
as everyone who was there knows was fierceness cha-cha real love
for sixteen hours. So we come back to New York, still reeling from
South Beach, still wondering why it is that we keep returning home
to New York, and then yesterday morn, just before four a.m. we walk
into Crobar and bam, it slams into us like nothing we've seen
before. The place is packed, the joint is jumping and the energy is
off the meter. There's nothing small about this party. No downsizing
happened here. It's over the top, off the charts. It's the perfect
representation of that elixir called New York Energy. It's that
energy which addicts and makes you New Yorker for life. And you're
looking over the sea of people, the crowd that Abel attracts, such a
wealth of diversity, and everyone bonded by the music and the word
is out, everyone knows it now, there's nothing like an Alegria party
and you're thinking, Nowhere else.
That club, the main room so huge it looks like the Concorde could be
parked inside but instead, it's filled to the gills, every nook
and cranny, up and down the stairs and along the railings and on the
banquettes and in the Pump Room (or the Prop Room, or whatever it's
called) and up in the skyboxes where the views are sublime across
the sea of people and over the bar of bottles and into the tunnel of
blue-white light, and everywhere there's movement, a frenzy of
movement and nothing stops because nothing can because Abel won't
My God, but these people are relentless. There is such intensity to
the way they party. Nothing halfway or ho-hum, these people are
moving to every beat that Abel lays down. There's such confidence.
So much natural, carefree confidence. Everyone knows why they're
here and no one's leaving until they've worked the last bit out of
their body. Bam, bam, bam we can't even drink a Gatorade without
It's a prison and we're all in lockdown, unable to leave until Abel
lets us go. There are bartenders in black and white prison stripes
and Abel in an orange prison jumpsuit. The prison bars ring the
floor. On the stage, there's a jail cell complete with toilet and
bunk. There's a show, a performer with a song, and there are at
least two confetti drops and three banners unfurling from the
rooftops: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ABEL but the real show is everywhere
around us. These people: the porn stars you recognize, and Nurse in
some Xtreme fabulous get-up. And here's a trend we noticed twice
last week in South Beach, and now again on the floor at Alegria:
boys dancing in their undies with their jeans bagging around their
ankles. Hello? Is this another co-opted fashion riff from prison?
And also, doesn't anyone work anymore? This is such a rich country.
We're dancing away Monday and nothing has ever felt so right.
Okay, so we're Abelheads what he does with his music and how he
makes us move and combine that with Ric Sena's production efforts
is this the perfect party recipe or what? It sure seems like
everyone gets it: there's plenty of happy people. And no drama, to
speak of, and only one fall-out that we witness, and that seemed to
be handled with decency even as it reminds us to be cool and stay
present and enjoy where we are now.
Oh, it's a wonderful party and we're upstairs peering at Abel as
he's flipping through his bins, and we catch his hiney moving to his
own beats and something about that, his own little dance, so
perfect for his own beats. And there's a guy on the walkway who
really knows his stuff he's dancing like he's an animated toy,
something created by Pixar, or a jack-in-the-box, such fluidity of
movement. He doesn't miss a single beat.
And the Glowstick Guy, he's tossing sticks across the floor, and
there's another who's tucking little glowsticks into our shoes and
sometimes it seems like Abel is making statements with his music,
like "what we need is a revolution," and that's just what is
happening: it's a love revolution. It's happening all around us.
Size it up, super-size it. Make that revolution extra-large. Xtreme
it to the max. Make it Abel and Alegria. Happy birthday indeed.
And so how do you leave when you're in such a delirious state? You
talk it over, you walk around. You check it all out one more time.
You send blessings to the booth and then just when you think you're
walking out the door you get caught up again and you're off and
running and so, never mind, you just won't leave.
Finally, finally, we did walking out into New York, into glorious
sunshine, and realizing, suddenly, that we loved this town more than
ever, for all its dark beauty and eccentric personality, and for
being the home of our favorite party on the planet.
Thank you, thank you, thank you to all those involved and all
those who love and respect a very great party. Can't wait to make it
all happen again.