On the Beach, clubs and bars come and go like models on a catwalk—and then there’s Score. For the past ten years, the Miami Beach dance club and lounge has reinvented itself as often as Madonna, thereby insuring that Score remains the place to be on Lincoln Road—and Sunday was no exception. For Score’s Perfect 10-Year Anniversary, the outdoor lounge was tented with white curtains (presided over by door goddess Asia Aviance) while the inside lounge was packed with revelers screaming at the top of their lungs. The party started at five pm and ran full steam for the next twelve hours. Everyone was smiling—and smashed by sunset. Cameras and photographers were falling all over each other. It was like a Hamptons lawn party without the Locust Valley lockjaw.

Inside, we plunged, deeper into the club, where DJ Drew Tribe had the dance floor packed. Lightmaster Tony Lage kept the room dark, with washes of deep purple and electric blue. Elongated Chinese lanterns in white hung above the dance floor: décor by RKM. Everywhere we looked, we saw happy people. All the usual suspects—plus about five hundred others. There was George Coronado and Dale Stine, Hilton and Mel, Ric Sena and Kevin Taylor, and Leo and Matt, DJ Roxx, Michael Superman, and Parzham, and Carl Zablotny, and Geraldine from the Girlie Brunch, and the Pennyback Boys, and Peter from Winter Party, and— Then the Halo posse entered: Babak and his comely bar staff parting the crowd like Obama. And presiding over the whole meshugaas, hugging their guests and smiling for the camera, were the exemplary hosts of the night, club owners, Billy Kemp and Luis Morera. Two gentlemen, to be sure, they make it a pleasure to play at their house. And how refreshing to see the doyens of nightlife supporting one another. We’re all in this together, after all.

It’s such a little sandbar—South Beach, that is. And yet, everything on the Beach seems outsized: bigger than it really is. This club called Score, for example, so beloved by locals and visitors from around the world: for its outdoor lounge on Lincoln, and the lush upstairs Crème Lounge—and a dance club that, over the course of ten years, has hosted nearly every deejay you’d ever hope to hear.

Last night, the first half of the party—and then some—belonged to DJ Drew Tribe. Like a freight train burning through the night, Drew set the pace and intensified the revelry a hundredfold. At one point, the crowd was singing—actually SINGING as the beats raced around the room. Maybe it was “Got My Eyes On U” but whatever it was, at that moment, there was no question: that crowd was Drew Tribe’s tribe—and deservedly so.

It was some time after the bewitching hour, some time after midnight, when that familiar baseball hat was seen in the booth. There he was, the man who loves New York, Montreal, and Miami, none other than that music maestro DJ Peter Rauhofer. The switchover happened with such precision, the crowd hardly realized that suddenly we were held fast in Peter’s grip as he rode us through the night. Oh, he was smooth, a thoroughbred running with the music, making the rest of the night his own.

The whole night was a celebration, a massive, twelve-hour celebration of all that Score has been for those who love music, and the beach—and all that’s still yet to come. Years ago, in San Francisco, there was a club called Trocadero, a well-loved gay club whose reputation and influence extended far beyond the Bay. Some towns are lucky that way, having that one gay club which is as loved by the locals as it is by the visitors who come to play there. South Beach is one of those towns—and Score is that club.