Beer in hand I sat watching as three kids set up a large speaker in the corner of a neighboring yard. A hot day in Venice was coming to a close – an ocean breeze ruffling the palm trees stuck on the block like street signs.

The music started and my girlfriend’s parents creased their newspapers, peering over to glare at the kids in basketball tanks and bucket hats.

Someone nudged the volume up a bit.

What the hell is this.

It was electronic – for anyone over the age of 30 – earth-shatteringly so – liquid synth and mathematical bass keeping time.

I tried to hide my delight as the beat dropped, but my foot gave me away, tapping on the stone tiles.

Look at these guys!

I lamented that the party stretched beyond the range of Shazam, but the moment was cemented – a beautiful, comical, energetic experience in Venice.

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