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Ninja Rave
In an effort to avoid the dreadful airport waiting game on Sunday, August 23, I had a temporary detour to a rave at Spanish Landing Park. It was about 6 p.m. I had expected to head over to the park, watch the boats or just enjoy the view. What I got, however, was something quite different, but the view was still something to see.
There, among the everyday San Diegans out for a jog or bike ride, was a DJ spinning heavy house and trance music. Maybe 20 people spastically danced and 1 or 2 slowly swayed (to their own tune, I assume). Then there were those who were swinging their nunchucks with psychedelic ribbons on the ends, a visual pleasure. Then, of course, there were the swordsmen, performing as if they were in a competition or dancing with their fellow swordsmen.
Was this a ninja rave? All were showing off their martial-arts skills while struggling not to fall over when they would move too quickly. One raver decided to sit with his group of friends after he nearly decapitated one of them while showing off his high-kick/jumping skills.
A group of attendees hung out in the outer circle with red cups of “punch” and cans of Tecate. Among them, every now and then someone would throw out a dance move and then quickly regain their “too-cool” composure.
As it got darker, more people showed up (maybe 70 people in all), and the tunes seemed to get better...or at least the dancers thought so. Each new song got a cheer from the crowd.
I left for the airport, satisfied that I had spent my hour of wait time productively, but wondering…why Spanish Landing? Why 6 p.m. on a Sunday? Why the ninja theme? But most importantly, why did I watch so long that I missed my plane?
Here's something you might be interested in.
Ninja Rave
Ninja Rave
In an effort to avoid the dreadful airport waiting game on Sunday, August 23, I had a temporary detour to a rave at Spanish Landing Park. It was about 6 p.m. I had expected to head over to the park, watch the boats or just enjoy the view. What I got, however, was something quite different, but the view was still something to see.
There, among the everyday San Diegans out for a jog or bike ride, was a DJ spinning heavy house and trance music. Maybe 20 people spastically danced and 1 or 2 slowly swayed (to their own tune, I assume). Then there were those who were swinging their nunchucks with psychedelic ribbons on the ends, a visual pleasure. Then, of course, there were the swordsmen, performing as if they were in a competition or dancing with their fellow swordsmen.
Was this a ninja rave? All were showing off their martial-arts skills while struggling not to fall over when they would move too quickly. One raver decided to sit with his group of friends after he nearly decapitated one of them while showing off his high-kick/jumping skills.
A group of attendees hung out in the outer circle with red cups of “punch” and cans of Tecate. Among them, every now and then someone would throw out a dance move and then quickly regain their “too-cool” composure.
As it got darker, more people showed up (maybe 70 people in all), and the tunes seemed to get better...or at least the dancers thought so. Each new song got a cheer from the crowd.
I left for the airport, satisfied that I had spent my hour of wait time productively, but wondering…why Spanish Landing? Why 6 p.m. on a Sunday? Why the ninja theme? But most importantly, why did I watch so long that I missed my plane?
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