ut your fucking hands up in the air Santa Monica!” the DJ screamed into his mic. A sea of hands came up around me, and mine rose to join them. The soul pounding bass came on fast, jerking through our bodies and sending our feet stomping. The windows of the old factory vibrated with each boom. I’d been coming to these raves for a few years,and I still didn’t understand how an illegal party for thousands of people couple slide under the radar. It’s not like it was quiet. The lights came on, sending rays of neon colors shooting across the huge building. We all leapt into the air, the raw energy in the crowd as contagious as any disease. The dubstep was blasting from a wall of car woofers rigged up in a way that would
