Bidding adieu to the old miami’s annual movement party city slang gas jockey

It began every year at 7 a.m. with the sounds of heavy bass reverberating throughout an otherwise very still Corridor. Smart people would show up early, often having not slept, and set up a curbside picnic consisting of fruits, coffee, and energy drinks to help make the wait more tolerable. Once at the gates, partygoers would pay $10 (no pre-sale tickets for this event), in some cases, directly to Troxler — who, as a Michigan native and former Detroiter, seemed right at home.

The Old Miami backyard would be packed with people, with groups sitting on blankets and outdoor furniture along the perimeter of a hopping dance floor made of laminate wood laid down on grass. The music always seemed to be exactly right for the time and setting, as the industrial sounds of the night gave way to a more melodic mix of house, disco, and often recognizable hits from the likes of Prince. As the day wore on, the music would intensify, helping re-energize the, by then, pretty strung-out crowd. In the years before the party became insanely popular, the festivities would be punctuated by a Memorial Day tribute, during which veterans would take the stage with flags and a trumpet, and the DJs would pause to make room for "Taps."

The social dynamic of the party was as much of a draw as the music. Rave culture is often confined to loud, dark spaces where conversing or even identifying someone you know presents a challenge, and the party served as an opportunity to vibe out with friends and catch up with acquaintances. The people-watching was also on point, thanks in part to costumed partygoers and the jet-setters who, to Midwestern eyeballs, seemed to paint caricatures of their respective cities. There were the Brooklynites, clad head-to-toe in black, save for perhaps a pair of white tennis shoes. The Chicagoans looked a lot like the Brooklynites, though discerning eyes could peg them as being slightly less stylish. And there was the D.C. cohort, a diverse set that could best be picked out by a District flag or large scarf bearing the face of Condoleezza Rice (this item was waved in irony).

Focusing in on the crowd revealed stranger things. A friend swears he once witnessed a man talking into a banana as if it were a telephone for a good thirty minutes. There’s photo evidence of a person laying with an inflatable doll in the "69" position while a costumed woman hand-fanned the duo. Once, we were approached by a jaw-jacking man seeking a tool with which to poke an additional hole in his belt loop, as he had lost so much weight during the course of the weekend that his pants kept falling down.

Dear Friends, Despite our best efforts and for reasons beyond the control of ourselves and the venue, it is with our deepest regrets to announce that NeedISayMore held at The Old Miami has been cancelled. It seems like only yesterday when we threw the first Need I Say More on the back patio at Agave 13 years ago. A year later we relocated to the now legendary Old Miami where the party took on a whole new meaning and grew to an amazing capacity. Times have changed, we have all changed. We have loved, we have lost, We have discovered the Beauty and hardships of life. The city of Detroit has maybe taken the greatest leap of change. something that we must welcome even in the pain of loss. We would like to thank all of you who have attended our celebration of life and freedom over all these years. Thank you to all the DJs who have provided the soundtrack to some of the greatest moments of these past 12 years. In the words of Don Shlitz "Know when to hold um, know when to fold um, know when to walk away, know when to run” Thank you for the memories, as fondness never fades. Always and forever, – Visionquest \\\\ Ryan, Shaun, Lee & Seth