He ran. He ran like hell, gasping for breath. As if his life depended on it. As daylight nibbled the scene, history arose and stretched. That of a thousand-year-old building bordering the Marne, attacked by men of the league during the religious wars, then commandeered by King Henry IV, the property of an adviser to the wife of Louis XV later on, and also serving as headquarters to the Russian Tsar Alexander I after the fall of the Napoleonic Empire.
But had they ever, in all their history, trembled quite like on that night in June ? On this particular evening, the partiers descended in the hundreds. Some took shuttle buses from just outside Paris, and others packed friends into their cars and parked in front of the woods bordering the castle.
In the hall that had once received Henry IV and his court, the crowd thrashed about, stirred by the Chicago rhythms served up by Zdar, one half of Motorbass. Fred ran into some familiar faces. The entire world of the small Parisian house scene was present at his party. In a corner, David Blot — the patron saint of the coolest party tips at Radio Nova — was in conversation, gesticulating excitedly. Elsewhere, behind a door, Fred bumped into the lanky figure of Pedro Winter tumbling into his arms.
This guy was always excited about something! Gas station hat bolted to his head, goatee garnishing his chin, the wide grin… the famous Pedro slipped him a flyer. But no sooner had he time to tell Fred that he would be overjoyed to see him at the next party organized at Le Palace in Paris than a stampede began. People rushed to the bottom of the reception hall. Two guys — one slightly chubby and the other tall and thin, both sporting flashy Teddy suits — had just taken their places behind the DJ booth.
Fred smiled. Before him, dozens of young people embraced a wild frenzy. Head in the clouds, they were all trying to catch the mirror ball that they hallucinated as the sun in their night.
