The monthly Downtown Full Moon Party is ostensibly a holistic journey geared to getting our earthly bodies closer to their spiritual being so they can harmoniously connect with the rhythms of the universe. But it's really just another excuse to get shit-faced and watch some dude swing a stick of fire.
Ignoring the woman at the entrance asking for a $10 donation (poster said, "free," lady), I walked into MAS this weekend, passed a scantily clad belly dancer standing around like she was waiting for a bus, and went looking for lunatics and werewolves. What I found was a party like any other Friday-night party. Except this one had fire and drummers. It was a club party disguised as a full-moon festival.
There was a drum circle. Well, it was really more of a drum semicircle --
a drum shoehorn, if you will. There was a bonfire. It was a 95-degree
evening with sweltering, suffocating midsummer mugginess. But fuck it.
You gotta have a goddamn bonfire at one of these things.
Outside in the open courtyard, a fire performer did his thing. His baton
was lit aflame on either end. He swung it back and forth across his
bare chest, his muscular arms pivoting the stick in swift, dangerous
rings. The DJ spun a tribal tune as the crowd cheered every impressive
swirl and spin. Fire Performer breathlessly traversed the courtyard
while swinging his fire stick, each fluctuation sending bright
red-orange waves across the darkness.
The fire baton was placed on the ground, and moments later, an
attractive girl wearing nothing but striped panties and a shredded black
shirt that clearly revealed her breasts began to seductively dance
around it. Fire Dance Girl sat on the ground and stretched a leg toward
her head. Then she jumped to all fours, arched her back, and moved her
body to the DJ's rhythm. This immediately caught everyone's attention,
mostly the men. Because, titties!
She pounced with full-body lunges and made her way around the circle,
tantalizingly moving with the music as if trying to sexually arouse the
flames from the stick. Her performance was brief, but provocative all
the same. As she faded into the shadows, the music became festive again,
and folks were brought back to Party Mode.
This Downtown Full Moon Party was an odd marriage of trendy revelers and
holistic seekers, and it killed any vibe you might get at a traditional
full-moon party. But this is Miami. Our festivals are parties. And we
use any excuse to throw down. My only regret was not seeing anyone turn
into a werewolf. That and not being able to make the acquaintance of
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Fire Dance Girl.
Look for the full recap on this monthly event in this week's issue. The next Downtown Full Moon Party is September 11.