I know I shouldn’t have kept you waiting…but I’m here now (REFERENCE).
On the off-chance that you already follow my ramblings and/or endure my selfies on one of my various social channels like Twitter or Instagram or Snapchat (and if you don’t, you’re seriously dead to me), you might have noticed that I was away for the past few days. And also on an island. And also #unapologetically shirtless.
Why? Because I was invited down to Bacardi Triangle (#BacardiTriangle) along with my blog BFFs Jon of Jon Ali’s Blog, T. Kyle from RealityTVGIFS and our non-blogging sis John to a massive 3-day party held in Puerto Rico for 1,862 guests (the brand’s birth year), all culminating with a massive triple-headlining performance on a small island with Ellie Goulding, Kendrick Lamar and Calvin Harris.
You know, just a casual weekend getaway or whatever.
The trip kicked off at a bright (well, still dark) and early 5 AM in New York, when we hopped in a car and carted our asses off to the Doubletree near Newark, nibbling on muffins and bagels in a zombie-like state of sleep deprivation. From the hotel, we were shuttled directly to the airport runway and boarded directly onto a private jet. Like, literally on the runway — no terminal fuckery.
When life hands you a Beyoncé moment, you take it.
We landed in San Juan airport a few hours later and were driven about an hour away to a gorgeous resort called El Conquistador. The resort is the actual embodiment of perfection: Jaw-dropping views, warm breezes, cool drinks, pool parties all day, clubbing all night.
It was, to quote a living legend, Heaven On Earth.
Here I am, casually taking in the view from a different perspective.
For the first two days of our stay, we largely laid in the sun, slowly converting from hardened, bitter city gays and/or shells of human beings to giddy, sun-kissed tourists, floating (literally) from pool party to pool party. The DJ roster was also full of familiar faces, including Tensnake and Paper Plates, who would spin everything from chill disco vibez to obscure pop remixes (there was a Paula Cole deep disco mix of “Feelin’ Love” at one point) to Vine anthems like “Turn Down For What” from early afternoon to, oh, about 3 AM.
Sixth Harmony.
On Halloween night, guests were invited down to the water park for a costume party. Of course, I only packed a bathing suit, so I just decided to throw on a mesh tank and dress like a slut or, as it’s known back at home, a normal Friday night.
That party was the very definition of super turnt up — seriously, maybe the most turnt up affair I’ve ever been to? Everyone was in the pool in costumes, dancing and raging and generally living like we were all on the set of Paris Hilton‘s “Good Time” video. I also lost my pants pretty early into the night. #KillingIt.
But the main event for us true lovers of music came on Saturday, when we were all herded together, given giant coconuts filled with rum and ferried over in droves to an island about twenty minutes off the coast of the resort called Palomino Island. From there, it was just a free-for-all of sensory overload: Fire-spinning dancers on the dock, a massive buffet in the forest, drink stations everywhere you turned (turnt), and a giant, illuminated triangle built right on the sand of the beach where the acts would play later that night.
The crowd lined up in the sand as Ellie took to the stage in a sexy black top around 9 PM, performing cuts like “Burn” and “I Need Your Love” as well as older smashes like “Lights” and “Starry Eyed.” Mama was seriously feeling her oats, too — she was humping the air and flipping that hair like crazy. She’s become such a superstar diva since the early days! So very proud. Kendrick’s killer, non-vibe killing set came next which resulted in a whole lot of crowd-surfing and drank spraying, all leading to what would be the night’s most ecstatic set: Mr. Motion himself, Calvin Harris.
The super-producer/DJ, who mostly stayed obscured in shadows behind his bright flashing LED screens of the stage, shuffled through previous smashes (“Feel So Close”), Motion singles (“Blame”) and current faves (Route 94‘s “My Love”), but the personal highlight, of course, was when #PhucksFree Illuminati Princess Rihanna‘s “We Found Love” happened, during which I briefly attained enlightenment.
I’ve also personally never been to an EDM festival, but I finally got a sense of what that really entails with the Calvin Experience: With each almighty beat drop, cannons of glitter and confetti would shoot into the crowd as smoke streams shot up on stage and fireworks burst in the sky. It was both slightly terrifying and utterly euphoric all at once. (I wrote about the concert in detail over at Idolator, if you’d like to see some videos and a more thorough play-by-play.)
The cell reception was non-existent, but the turn up was real.
Can I also just say? I’m not even being paid to say this, but I’m now a Bacardi fan. I’ve always been a gin and tonic basic bitch, but the drinks they were making — mojitos, sangria, Dulce de Leche (I think?) — were delicious, and didn’t even taste like alcohol. Delicioso. So, if they were hoping to acquire some new converts, the plan worked.
And there you have it: The greatest weekend ever.
I’d like to sincerely thank The Karpel Group for the invite, YoungJets for carting us there and making us all briefly feel like glam VIPs, and of course. Bacardi for throwing one fucking hell of a party — from the personable bartenders, to the delicious drinks, to the jam-packed itinerary. I would also like to thank Puerto Rico for providing attractive men to look at, as well as for your cute coqui frogs croaking in the night. Finally, I would like to thank both God and the baby Jesus for somehow allowing me and my friends to return alive. I’m still really not sure how we pulled that one off.
I shall now continue to suffer in my post-tropical island depression and know that I will never be that happy again in my entire life. Happy Monday!
