Here's the thing: once you attend the Main Event at Black and Blue in Montreal, you're totally corrupted for any convention center/stadium event thereafter.

And yet, having said that, last night at the Miami Beach Convention Center with Victor Calderone at the helm brought back the best of this past October's Main Event, and did not, by any stretch, suffer in comparison.

There really was a pyramid, of scaffolding and scrims and lights and speakers, and there were huge illuminated columns decorated with hieroglyphics, while green lasers made hieroglypics dance around the walls, and there was a VIP oasis with palms, and the stage opposite Victor's throne was vast and deep and so if you squinted and let go of disbelief, you definitely went to ancient Egypt.

Arriving just before one a.m., we were a little concerned that Victor might not have made it home from his tour of LA, but not to worry, for the gong sounded, or some such, and the crowd moved toward the stage where the curtains parted to reveal Lamya atop a platform, and she came down to sing "Empires (Bring Me Men)" with about a dozen Egyptian slaves and King Tuts and sun gods, and her banging on her drums.

And then, the voice intoned: Ladies and gentleman, Victor Calderone. And we were all off and running.

For the next five hours of our Egyptian sojourn, Victor created this aural landscape that somehow complemented the Egyptian motif with this kind of Lord of the Rings: Two Towers roiling and boiling pulsing beat, Frodo and crew in the pursuit of MiddleEarth's salvation. An ongoing growling and roaring that was heightened by the weirdly resonant acoustics of the center. Our favorite perspective, apart from the floor, was sitting on the bleachers (on padded chairs, no less), at a kind distance from the whole scene and being able to take it all in with a panoramic glance: not unlike one of those aerial shots in Two Towers where there's so much action going on that you're overwhelmed by activity.

How can you capture this in words? You can't, not really. It's so much about the energy of the moment, and sinking into it to let it happen all around you.

There was a second show, with a huge lighted beastial and plasmic apparition processing on a chaise longue, all the way from Victor's platform, parting the crowd, and up to the stage where the curtains opened again -- to reveal Power emerging from between two sarcophagi.

And then an incredible production number, the high point, literally, of which was Power levitating above the stage in full lotus position.

And then another number, an hour or so later, done to "I'm the Master, You're the Slave" (or something like that, help me...), during which dominatrices whipped their men into shape. The men in briefs strapped to white canvases.

And here, I'd just like to go on record and say that when I see production numbers like these, they are in no way at all a deterrent to the energy within the crowd, nor do they, in my opinion, hinder the flow of a party. Instead, it seems to me that production numbers like the ones we saw last night at Miami 2003 exemplify the kind of energy all of us as individual dancers are attempting to radiate when we move on the floor. Those dancers onstage work, and inspire, and I, for one, am grateful for their infusion of energy.

And Victor, master that he is, made these production numbers an integral part of his aural landscape, so that the beat that he laid down flowed naturally onto and off the stage.

It was a happy crowd, and we were lucky enough to see no fall-outs, and instead, what we saw was a crowd of very pretty people partying seriously, but not blindly. Unlike New Year's Eve's reputation as a night for amateurs, this crowd seemed professional: people who know how to enjoy Victor's music and Jeffrey Sanker's productions.

Our favorite line of the night: seeing a friend in fiercely tight plaid pants (it's all about the pants), we offered him praise, to which he said, "Fucking girlie pants. I've got everything stuffed in my socks."

Interestingly, we went with two Danish friends who didn't "get " the whole thing, and they left around four, and their departure caused us to consider again all that was around us, and what it was we so enjoy about these affairs.

The answer we came up with: it's all about the music, and giving in to its power.

And when it's handed to you on such a silver platter as last night's exemplary affair (swag was everywhere, from the red blinking Bacardi magnets and pins and keychains and hats, to boxes of sunglasses upon our departure -- so thoughtful), there's no way we can resist.

Here's hoping everyone else enjoyed the night as much as we did, and that 2003 becomes the year when music assuages our differences and reminds us of our similarities.