I hoped to finish Liquid Matrix without needing to tell any stories. Does the world really need any more "Gary stories"? But it's fun to share the adventure...
The party didn't take place at Paxton because Thursday afternoon we learned the Paxton Lodge had no primary fire insurance. I'm not sure why it was a secret but it proved to be fatal. The provider of our event insurance informed us that there was no way to cover the structure for it's worth on such short notice - we tried anyway and failed. The lack of primary fire insurance, combined with the fire that almost got away in Paxton a few days before, meant the risk was too much.
Thursday night I spoke with the owners of the Paxton site and explained the coming horror - hundreds of people were on their way, some already on the road. We needed a miracle and I asked them to work on getting one for us. And they went to work, calling everyone they knew in the area, following up on leads and pleading our case. Friday morning I walked an old abandoned saw mill with the owner... it had acres of land along the river, flat spots for stages, lots of trees. The owner was up for it if his lawyer liked our insurance (which, i have to say, was A+). But there were drawbacks. It was visible from the highway and the land was covered in two-foot high grass.
While we were sorting through the logistics of moving to the mill I got a call from the Paxton site's co-owner saying we should go check out the county fairgrounds, that she'd spoken to them and told them what we were doing and apparently we were welcome. Hmm. Fairgrounds. Sounded dusty. The Paxton co-owner seemed very enthusiastic about it though, so a partner and I took a drive up to take a look.
The Fairgrounds manager showed us around when we arrived and we realized the space might work. There were some problems - most notably that the sound had to move indoors at 11 pm. We were also concerned about neighbors and attracting unwanted attention. To that end my friend stressed that it would be loud. I think his words were, "it's going to be unrelenting doof doof doof for 48 hours. Is that going to create a problem?"
The fair manager was unfazed. "We have the High Sierra Music Festival here and they have bigger speakers than anything you're going to have. It's not a problem," she said. Sounded good to me. My friend then asked about neighbors and we were told that there was one cranky guy in a trailer but not to worry about it. So we didn't. We went to work.
For the record: there are neighbors and they did, actually, seem to mind. That was a giant problem for the police, who started fielding noise complaint calls within minutes of us turning on the sound. I had my first meeting with the Sgt. from the sheriff's department at about sunset and it went well. I explained who we were and what we were doing, showed him my contract with the fairgrounds and the insurance certificate. He was cool. He told me to keep it inside the gate and that everything would be fine. Then the sound came on.
Over the next several hours I danced with the police. I kept them at bay until about 2:30 am by reviewing the fact that we were contracted with the county to do what we were doing and it didn't seem right for another department in the county to be hassling us. That argument carried some weight with the Sgt. from the sheriff's department and it kept the music on until... the Highway Patrol got involved!
The local Highway Patrol commander showed up at 2:20 and told us to shut it off. He yelled at me for a while and refused to listen to a word, then got in his car and sped off, leaving me standing there with the sheriff's guys. They all had a "who farted" look on their faces and I took advantage of the moment to give a general speech on what BS it all was. I told them what the fair manager had said about us not being as loud as the High Sierra Music Festival and one of the younger deputies said, "you're not the High Sierra Music Festival." I saw a look of annoyance cross the Sgt's face - he knew better but said his hands were tied due to the local nighttime law enforcement command structure. I believed him.
I went to bed. Allen waited an hour and turned it back on - he's a pirate and that's why he was the first on the team. When I got up in the morning I went to work with the fairgrounds people. They agreed that I was being unduly harassed and from there the phones lit up in the Plumas county political and law enforcement circles. For the next 12 hours I was almost constantly on the phone with county supervisors, the sheriff, the Sgt and the fairgrounds people. Most of them seemed to be on our side - even if they were very upset with the fair for contracting with us. As night fell on Saturday night I was cautiously optimistic that we'd make it.
At about 8 pm I got a call from the Sgt. - he said they'd reached 50 noise complaints and by law the matter would have to forwarded to the DA for a criminal investigation. He told me not to worry about it, that his report would keep me safe, but that I'd need to give them my drivers license info before I left. He added that one of the neighbors wanted to perform a citizen's arrest on me and if he pushed it there was nothing the Sgt could do but serve the papers and cite me. I told him I knew he'd do his job and it was cool, and that my job was to keep the party going. He told me it would get shut down for sure if we didn't move inside right away so we rushed Stereographic off the outdoor stage (sorry man, that was the worst part of the whole party for me! You were ripping it up!) and started getting the indoor stage ready.
At about 9 pm Saturday night the Sgt called me and told me the local politicians had decided that the fair manager had overstepped his authority in issuing us the contract, and that the result was likely that we'd be closed down in the next hour. I asked him what he meant by closed down, whether they intended to chase us out of the campground or, if we stayed would the voices and sounds of 400 campers be almost as much of a problem as the music. The Sgt told me he'd get back to me.
Allen and I started searching for an attorney in Plumas county - we weren't going to let them close the party without a fight. As I keyed in the number of one of the lawyers who was famous in those parts for a fight against the police... the sheriff called. He was pissed off and it took 30 minutes before he calmed down enough to have a reasonable discussion. It was clear that the noise complaints were a problem for an elected sheriff. It was also clear that the party was likely to have been stopped if it had taken place either in Paxton or the saw mill. He told me a lot about local politics and the personalities we were dealing with and gave sage advice. He's a smart guy. I told our story and he was sympathetic. But he works for the people of Plumas county and the noise was a problem. It sounded like he was going to close us down.
Then, while I was talking to the sheriff a line of police vehicles streamed onto the fairgrounds. They stopped and about 10 deputies dispersed into the crowd (some police jargon for you) while the Sgt walked toward me. I was so sure we were going to be closed down that I asked the sheriff what to do with all the people. His answer was a bit cryptic: "Just keep the lid on it." He paused for a moment and repeated, "just keep a lid on it".
I hung up and turned to the Sgt. We talked for a bit and it became clear I didn't know what was going on. He asked what the sheriff had told me and then cleared it up for me - the party wasn't being busted. The deputies were doing a count in a last ditch effort to see if there were more of us there than I'd contracted for (there weren't), and when the quick count was completed the Sgt told me to keep it as quiet as I could and maybe no one would have to go to jail or lose their jobs.
I stood out by the gate talking to that Sgt for an hour after the rest of the counting-squad left. He asked me what I meant when I referred to our group as a community and listened carefully as I explained the connections we have to one another and to the music and dance that frees our hearts and minds to allow us to be better members of the larger community. He got it. I told him he was my best new friend of the weekend and I meant it. The entire adventure was worth it for the hours I spent with this man, the understanding we both gained and chance to communicate directly on a heart level with a keeper of a table in the paradigm.
It certainly isn't all joy and light though. The fairground neighbors are real people who deserve consideration. Consideration we did not provide and I'm disappointed that our needed ceremony had to intrude on others. Karma was created that we'll all have to deal with and my name is on the contract so I expect many of those energetic ripples will land at my shore.
But... I decided to take that on from the beginning because we need to dance. Everyone other than me did their jobs exceptionally. Everyone, especially the dancers. The math tells me that Liquid Matrix produced about 5000 dancing hours between all of us. 5000 hours of moving meditation. 5000 hours not in our heads. 5000 hours that create peace in us and through us. The world is better because of it.
Next time I'll try to do my job better too. But don't worry - I forgive myself fast!
