They had their marathon—and we had ours—and let’s all admit it right now: the circuit marathon is a helluva lot more fun and fabulous than running 26 miles from Staten Island. Why? Because, number one, we were dancing for 26 miles—and number two, because the finish line was Alegria—and we all know that the final leg of the marathon is the best, and particularly when you cross the threshold into Ric Sena’s Alegria @ M2 where collective joy reigns.

While the standard for Halloween special events in Manhattan has been relatively high (and in no small part thanks to the five previous incarnations of Alegria Halloween), this year’s edition of Alegria Halloween, a party that has become increasingly noted for its exemplary theatrical production values, placed the trophy on a shelf where it shall no doubt remain out of reach for a good long time.

In hindsight, it was probably beneficial that next to nothing about Alegria Halloween 6 was revealed prior to entrance. To stare at this year’s invitation was to see a Blackmoor font and four green eyes floating on a black background—and nothing more. To look at the subliminal invite was to stare—and wonder.

And wonder was precisely what greeted everyone who entered Alegria Halloween 6: awestruck wonder. As one boy said, his mouth agape, “Oh, boy. The man’s really outdone himself this time. This is really elaborate.” Elaborate and imaginative, the set for this party was the execution of a vision that seemed to have been birthed in a particularly creative surreal dream—about an extraterrestrial species of superior beings noted for their eyes. It was all about the eyes. Gigantic green space-pod alien eyes, disconnected from any skull or body. Eyeballs like serpents—the kind that fill your bedroom window and watch as you sleep.

Even the bartenders had been subsumed by this alien invasion—sprouting gigantic orange eyelashes around their necks. And yet the full moon over Manhattan seemed propitious, rather than foreboding—for these eyes seemed more focused than fearsome—and from above the floor, they hovered and rose and fell, seemingly absorbed by the mass of beauty writhing in rhythm beneath them. Alien eyes from another galaxy entranced by the beat of Alegria as the gorgeous earthling DJ Micky Friedmann beat new life into Chic’s yesteryear hit “Good Times,” and “Counting Down the Days,” thereby completing a groove-laden opening set that massed the boyz onto the floor.

And then—and then—it was three a.m. and as the man of the hour had earlier posted, “At three am the world stops and the new Universo begins….”—and when DJ Abel speaks, Alegria responds. Even the extraterrestrial eyes blinked and wavered—and the Mothership Pupil dilated and lowered down for a closer look. This is what the eyes had been waiting for: a close-up viewpoint as Abel commanded “Lemme See U Shake,” and twisted in “Intoxication,” reminding us “It’s All About the Music.” And excuse us, but contrary to the assertion from another artist, THIS IS IT! For when Alegria coheres into something far larger than its individual parts, the implied message is: Top this. Go ahead, just try and top this. Alegria is the party that throws down Top this. Just try.

And to gaze upon the stage and see the amassed collection of costumed creatures for Best of Show—a range of physiognomy including pointed ears and hairy faces, and the long-tressed and dreadlocked, and the golden-haired, and the blue-lighted, and the headdressed, and the masked—was to know again the truth that there is room for all of us—even on this one planet. This is what we show them at Alegria. How to do it—how to dance together and create something beautiful and larger than what we are alone.

All around the room, everywhere you looked: collective joy—on the faces of stunning members of the species, such as Gorm and Tod, preparing for their own New York re-entrance, and beautifully bearded Carlos Hernandez, and DJs Escape and Eddie Elias, and George Tizzy Dellinger, and Michael Circuit Dancer 2.0 and Olivier, and DJ Joe Caro, and Joseph, and Charles, and Pat as Mr. Incredible, winner of the costume contest. Everywhere throughout the massive room, what you saw was the joy of kids playing—that childlike joy that comes from being watched over by beneficent beings.

And meanwhile, as one post put it, “Abel is whipping our behinds” with a set that was consistent and contagious, infectious and hypnotic. “Lemme see you clapping,” he demanded. “Lemme see you happy.” Abel’s rhythmic soundscape slid under the skin, tapping directly into the bloodstream like an iv. And what he did with something like “Million Dollar Bill” played as an example of his ability to take an almost overly-familiar track—and make it completely sui generis and newly exceptional.
And through it all, whether judging the costume contest, or laughing with friends, hugging them, or texting with intent, there was Ric Sena in boxing champion garb—as calm and focused as Muhammad Ali in the ring. There are producers and there are artists—and then there are the few who combine both roles.

It’s a beautiful thing to witness the evolution of artists at work—and Alegria Halloween 6 was an opportunity to realize again the depth of the talents of people such as Abel, and lighting wiz Stephen Wyker, and the man behind the curtain, Ric Sena—and to recognize anew how much all of us, every one of us, is a part of the art being produced—and that what is created at Alegria is magnified by the energy and joy of the Alegria family. That’s the genius of Alegria: the sharing in the creation of something that is big, bold, and beautiful.