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 Xtreme 4.

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 let you.

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 moving.

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.