I Went on a Blind Date at Escape

Anyone who’s been to a festival or two knows that finding romance in the teeming crowd of revelers isn’t exactly that difficult. Spirits are high, inhibitions are low, and YOLO sentiments are at dangerously elevated levels. So it’s not unheard of for a friend or two to cleave off from the group and spend the rest of the night dancing (and more) with their new fest darling.

But that’s a connection made in the heat of the moment. What about planning a first date with a stranger that would take place at the event? I set out to see what it’s like to go on a blind date at Escape: All Hallows’ Eve in San Bernardino, California, this past weekend. Was it weird? Did I find love? Did I spill beer on her? You’ll have to read and find out.

When Insomniac first approached me about this article, we aimed to have me scour the various rave forums and search for a unicorn of a date: a girl who had already purchased her Escape ticket and would be willing to leave her friends to spend her Halloween night with a stranger.

“Even the medical station looked more bumping than a lot of the parties I’d been to this year.”

But finding someone willing to go along with all that actually proved to be somewhat tricky. My frank posts on message boards and subreddits were mostly met with sentiments along the lines of, “lol ok. Good luck, bro.” Friends didn’t seem to have much optimism for my quest, either. But then, in a stroke of good luck with less than a week before game time, a friend texted me from work with good news: “I have a coworker here. Her name’s Ruby. She’s down to go with you. She goes to all of these raves. You’ll have a fun time.”

I got my savior’s number, and we started texting the usual preliminary questions to each other: Where are you from? What do you do? What genres of music are you into? We swapped Instagram usernames, the now de facto way to check someone out with enough plausible deniability that you aren’t just being superficial and ogling. I was, though, and she was cute; so I could calm the fears of my shallower side and actually treat Friday like a date with someone I’d ask out in a non-stunt-journalism setting.

We were both busy with work for the next few days; but before long, it was Friday afternoon, and she was heading to my apartment to start the long drive from Los Angeles to San Bernardino. I’d hoped the two-hour trek would give us a chance to chat a bit more, without emojis. Aside from a few awkward, pregnant pauses that one of us then rushed to fill with an uber-generic question—“So, what L.A. neighborhoods do you like to hang out in?” (sorry for that one, Ruby)—it was mostly a fun, chatty trip to the venue. Things were looking promising.

In our prelim chitchat, we’d forced ourselves to have “the talk”: costumes. Ruby had planned on recycling and modifying an outfit from EDC and going as Tinkerbell. It only seemed right to cater to her plan and jettison my cheesy skeleton costume. “I could probably whip up a Peter Pan outfit to go with that, if you don’t think it’d be too weird.” She didn’t think it would be, so whip up I did.

That evening in San Bernardino, as we parked the car for the night and put the final touches on our duds before heading into the venue, I beamed like a moron when a passing stranger said, “Hey, Peter Pan!” in response to my last-minute effort of a cut-up green T-shirt and shorts. “I’m killing this date!” I thought, before immediately thanking God that I hadn’t vocalized that feeling.

“Why wouldn’t you want to lock that moment away in your memory with something intimate like a kiss?”

Ruby and I had both been to our share of Insomniac events, but when we finally made our way through the final checkpoint and into the pond area of Escape, we both agreed it was the most chock-full setup they’d ever presented. Lights, graves, ghosts—you name it. Every square inch seemed to be cloaked in Halloween gear. The sensory overload and adrenaline hit us, and we took off to catch our first set.

Hot Since 82 got us dancing right off the bat. You all know how these shows go: One minute you’re holding each other’s hands in a utilitarian sense, as one of you leads the other through the crowd to an oasis of space. Then, once you’re in that zone, it’s pretty easy to shift that grip to each other’s hips. Other partiers force things to get close and intimate. Drinks and what-have-you amp up the flirt level. I didn’t mind. She didn’t mind. I was almost ready to call this a successful date—but didn’t let myself get too hasty.

The night had us bouncing between the various stages and tents, getting a chance to explore the entirety of the compact venue grounds. At one point, I noticed a dome with lights swirling around it, much like the campground disco at Coachella. I asked the cop on horseback next to me, “Is that also part of the festival?” He responded, “No, that’s a hospital” with such a dry, Ron-Swanson affect that I thought he might be fucking with me a bit—before I confirmed that it was, in fact, the first aid area. Kudos. Even the medical station looked more bumping than a lot of the parties I’d been to this year.

The one blemish on the evening occurred when we decided to check out the carnival swings. Ruby was getting chilly, as it was now close to midnight. So I chivalrously offered the sweatshirt element of my costume to her. Now locked into our individual swings, the skies decided to open up and drop the rain it had been threatening all day. So, while I could’ve done without being whipped through icy rain for those five minutes, I guess I’d rather it be me taking the discomfort than my date. I’ll be waiting for my medal of valor, Mr. President.

Noisia, Moby, Yellow Claw, Zomboy and Datsik comprised the rest of our evening before our energy was drained and it seemed like time to go home. During that final set, while we danced through our “one more song and we’ll head out,” Ruby and I just kinda went for it and had a really sweet first-date kiss.

That’s the thing about raves: They bring out a kind connection between people, and rather than thinking about all the shit you should or shouldn’t do, you’re just in the moment, enjoying your time with another person. And why wouldn’t you want to lock that moment away in your memory with something intimate like a kiss?

Ruby snoozed on the ride home, and we made it back to Los Angeles through the rain to see if we could find some more Halloween partying to be done. At the end of the night, we both agreed that not only was the whole evening not as awkward as we’d anticipated, but it was actually tremendously fun. I thanked her for rolling the dice with a rando like me, and she thanked me for asking her to come with. I didn’t need to ask her out on date two. It was clear to us both that we’d be hanging out again.