Sure, sure, the incomparable Felix da Housecat was spinning at 1015 on this fair night, but to be honest, we've been there enough times and you've seen enough pictures from there. Am I right? Right. So this week, it was time to cross the San Mateo Bridge into the *gasp* East Bay and track down the Hotel Ibiza. (You didn't think I went to Spain when I told you I'm going to Ibiza, did you?)

Now before we go on, let me explain this get-up. Why the hell am I wearing my gym shirt & ratty old jeans to a place with a ridiculous cover and upmarket drink prices? Two words: Foam Party. Whether it's ankle-deep or up over your head, this crap, as we learned, will soak you. (Don't believe what the foam party web pages say - the stuff is most definitely beyond 5% moisture.) But hey, everyone enjoys being moist, right? Ok, maybe not Janet Reno.

There was a nice, elaborate setup outside, but it was largely empty, save for people lounging around the couches along the perimiter. This was abit surprising, considering we got there at about 1 am. Since the Ibiza is a hotel, there are rooms that wrap around the place, with many people on balconies hanging banners and such - like a mini spring break, but not quite as warm and without as many hotties. What looked to be the Dirty Vegas suite had its balcony draped with Ol' Glory - it was from there that Sean got this beautiful DV poster that he and Dave are comparing their choppers with.

Once we strolled into the main room, Dirty Vegas were finishing up their set and handing the decks over to Josh Wink. The room was full of brotherly love for our favorite Philly DJ. The only question surrounding him is this: Where the hell did he get cans of Corona? And why?? At any rate, Winx was putting on a masterful, eclectic set as usual.

Back outside again, it was time to cool down and take in the sights, sounds, and sensations...

...of foam! There's nothing quite like dancing around in a big pit of bubbles. It's rather hard to explain what it feels like, so I recommend that you simply try it. Just keep your eyes peeled for a club/event listing a foam party and take some clothes/footwear you don't mind getting wet in. Sure, the weirdness of it all bugged Dave at first, but as you can see, he ended up getting into it. In fact, we got so into it that we had a foam wrestling match. It didn't last long, because after about 20 seconds, you feel really silly trying to assault someone with bubbles.

You know, this is probably the cleanest I've been in a while. Sean also took full opportunity of the situation and washed his hair and shirt simultaneously. Eventually, we got out of the pit and Dave weaseled his way back to the car to bring back a change of clothes. In the meantime, I watched the now-not-so-empty outside stage where some guy was going nuts with some fire. After changing into some warm, dry shorts, it was time to head back inside and catch some more tunes.

For a relatively small space, they did a decent job with the lighting and decor - nothing too advanced, but it was effective in its simplicity.. I was tripping out on these cubes for a while, which has to say something considering I wasn't my usual sloshed self. Everything was good.

Even the Drum n Bass room was good. I'm not a huge DnB fan - I have a limited collection - but I thoroughly enjoyed dancing to the stuff being spun. Hell, even Dave got into the act (now in his minty fresh scrubs), dancing up to the French girls we met in the bathroom earlier on. [The bathrooms are co-ed by the way.. we weren't sneaking into women's stalls and taking pictures or anything...]

Of course, what would the club landscape be like without dancing girls? I think Dave exhausted his supply of $1 bills after hanging out in front of the stage for a few songs. (Just kidding ya, buddy - I know you use fivers.)

Back outside again, the huge jacuzzi was filling up. With foam and guys. Bleh. What kinda hot-tubbing is that? I opted to ruin my warmth and dryness by crawling back into the foam again. Click on the picture (middle) to expand it and check out my groovy new footwear! As for this gentleman on the right, he dove in with a suit on. That's a brave man. Or one with a great dry cleaner. At any rate, here's your pic on the internet, dude, as promised.

Aaaaand back we went to the inside, where the trainspotters were lined up to watch the peak of Wink's set. (After all, why dance when you can watch a guy switch records? Ok, so I used to do the same...) As the night grew later, it was time for the next hand-off, this time to DJ Wish-FM. Where he got the name, I'm not quite sure, but it was great to hear one eclectic jock followed by another.

Eventually it was time to crawl back to the peninsula and crash. I'd have slept in while my clothes dried out on the hammock, but I had to wake up and buy concert tickets for future adventures... The fun never ends! Next stop... Glastonbury, UK!