That takes in a lot of territory, so I’d better be more specific. I’m talking about something that happened at ZoukFest, and right away that makes it tricky to describe.

There’s nothing quite like ZoukFest. Not only are the instructors all world-class musicians, but we all eat, sleep, and share bathrooms together. There’s no special physical status for the staff. This makes for a constant roar of musical activity, inside and outside of class, since everyone is part of the same temporary community. Most nights after the staff performances, there are spontaneous jam sessions going on all over the place, including the special breed of Irish session that Celtic music fans will recognize, where a solo instrument leads off with one tune after another, and everyone follows along. That’s the kind I visited on Friday night, only by the time I got there, most of the amateurs had gone to bed, leaving the field wide open for the pros.

The talent at 3:00 a.m.

The majority of people in that shot make their living playing music. I’m not going to identify them, but some of you would recognize the names. There was plenty of drinking going on, and the music got wilder and wilder. Other musicians wandered in and out as the level of musical and chemical intoxication rose ever higher. There wasn’t any rowdiness, just an altered state of consciousness one only sees with booze in special circumstances. It wouldn’t have been surprising to see people dancing on the tables, although no one did. I sensed a wild looseness. In the relaxed, non-aggressive state of being focused on the music, other spirits gained release.

I’ve rarely been happier to just “be” in a place and time. That’s why I call it the “best jam session ever,” not for reason exclusively of music. When I decided to go to my room at 4:30 a.m. after tequila, wine, and swigging Bushmill’s from the bottle, two of my gentlemanly associates allowed as how they’d rather just stay up all night instead of going to bed. They did, too! I turned out the light at around 5:00 a.m., just as dawn was graying in the east, and got up two hours later for breakfast. None the worse for wear, I might add, thanks to the gallon of lemonade I drank to wash down vitamin C and Ibuprofen.

It actually wasn’t hard to get up at all, but I’m not sure if that’s a feature or a bug.