What I am trying to tell you is that no one was in control. It was pure beautiful anarchy mixed with untiy. Two of the primary colors of raving that combined into a very dark black. A black so dark it made any five Junglists look like a Boy Band. But why? It's simple. The world looks down on ravers, which is fine with us since it only strengthens the bond we have with eachother. Discrimination and unjust persecution, in other words hate, make a group band together faster and stronger than any other force.
So, do people hate Hardcore? Hell yeah! I can play the darkest, burliest, Drum n Bass and complete strangers at the Price Club Gas Station will try to bob their heads and look cool. When they hear Heroes of Hardcore, they just look at me like I look at people in the K hole. Everyone, including the other ravers, look down on Hardcore music, which is exactly what the hardcore heads need/want. Knowing that everyone hates them regardless of what they do gives them permission to do whatever they want, and creates the "us against them" mentality I call unity.
 Leaning up against a wall on the floor of the dome I could see everything.
Four kids teamed up with arms locked to crash through the *side* of the mosh pit near the stage of the Masterdome. They were not going after any one, they were attacking the Masterdome itself. Speakers tumbled, still pounding Omar Santana, and security rushed over to rebuild the wall. Even the people in the mosh pit, who revel in violence, had to pause. All the destructive energy in the world was being mindlessly released.
Directly to my right was a party kid getting a lightshow to Hardcore. He was unaware of, or at least unconcerned with, the violence yards away. In another world where glowsticks left long long trails of light behind, the only thing on his tranquil mind was "Thank You."
A youngster in a full on Tigger costume was thinking "No Thank You," as he stumbled in front of me. He had seen quite enough of this Evil-Twin-Masterdome and was rushing outside to hear Paul-E or Huggie or anybody spin anything besides very loud, very hard (,very scarey) Hardcore.



On stage a girl in a snug red top and snugger blue pants was not dancing, but chopping to the beat. She was leaning forward filling an imaginary person with imaginary caps out of her imaginary gun, bouncing on her knees over and over and over 180 times a minute. When the beat would disappear she would stop, look at the DJ, and smile. When the beat came back she would begin to spring again with an angry yet cute and even sexy look that only a hardcore chic can have.

Straight across, past the floor, were bleachers filled with spectators. Some were in their own world, while some were just a safer distance from the chaos on the floor. No smashing or crunching, just lounging and loving. But who cares about them?
At 2 o'clock (2am, and in front of me to the right) I saw Kande Kids, yes Kande Kids, doing the "McDance" to Hardcore, yes Hardcore, under green laser letters that said "HURT SOMEONE." That might not be exactly what it said, it might have said "H2OH RECORDINGS," but from the way most people were behaving, you would think they were following "HURT SOMEONE" instructions. The Kande Kids, on the other glove, were just acting like Kande Kids. Skipping and turning 90 degrees, they showed up to the Masterdome expecting to McDance to Trance, but they got so much more.