It began Friday afternoon, just as the happy-hour crowd realized that something was different about its typical Metrorail commute.
En route to downtown Miami, kandi kids in furry boots, nipple pasties, and CamelBak packs had overtaken the train.
Ultra Music Festival was officially underway, but the sideshow had only just begun.
From whale humping to an empty Metromover, these were the top six WTF moments from weekend one of Ultra 2013.
Prince Charles, James Bond, and Mr. Bean Walk Into a Rave...
And their t-shirts ask: "Is this Real?"
Depending on how fucked up you are, it's hard to tell. On one hand, these three Englishmen may actually know one another. On the other, it could just be three EDM superfans in fairly convincing cardboard cutout masks.
Forget the fact that this poor whale is out of water and stuck in a sea of sweaty bros and raging 'round downtown Miami. It's also being fucked in its flukes.
Save the whales, ravers.
We'd asked the blonde girl wearing the bikini if she'd like to be part of our "Best Butts at Ultra" round-up, but she wouldn't pose until her bestie helped turn that traditional bathing suit bottom into the greatest thong at Ultra. And that's what friends are for.
On St. Patrick's Day, this prideful Irishman decided it'd be a good idea to climb a municipal street sign for a bird's eye view of Ultra Music Festival. Only problem, he may've had a boner. Look closely.
Keith Richards's Doppelgänger
It's only rock 'n' roll, but we love it. And after three long days of tiki-tiki music, even fake Keith Richards was a welcome (albeit bizarre) surprise.
Where Have All the Ravers Gone?
By 9:30 p.m. on Sunday, several thousand exhausted ravers had already left Ultra in desperate need of hot showers and solid food. Another several thousand, however, were still inside UMF festival grounds, milking every last second of the fest's first weekend.
On downtown Miami's Metromover, though, only an unattended plastic grocery bag kept us company, and that rocked. It was so much more considerate than the throngs of 20-year-olds with whom we'd shared the train numerous times throughout the weekend.
The bag didn't subject us to their iPhone videos of such-and-such DJs set and kept personal drug habits, well, personal.
But it was eerily quiet and rather unsettling to ride the Metromover without some spring breaker sucking his thumb all the way to Government Center. Or a group of 19-year-old girls talking about VIP bottle service at LIV.
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