Happy birthday, NACA!  We got you — you guessed it — a dance party.  Go ahead, open it!

For 50 years now, the National Association of Campus Activities (NACA) has been the go-to resource for finding college entertainment. Kind of like Van Wilder, Party Liason.  As a faithful member organization, we took it upon ourselves to make sure there was a sweet party on the agenda for last weekend’s Northeast regional conference.

But before the face-rocking, it was time to turn the tables— the figurative ones.  For our booth in the NACA Marketplace, we decided to put students on the other side of the mix, exposed to the awesome gadgetry that makes the club go BOOM.  Add a little green-screen magic, and we’ve got ourselves a Facebook album full of honorary DJs rocking some familiar past events.

But our down-time wouldn’t be spent lounging in the booth on our swanky GB couches.  As fate would have it, we needed to make an excursion to pick up a camera cable.  No problem, right?  We’re right smack in the middle of a major city; we can just head over to Radio Shack. But that would have been too easy.

Closest store: Staples.
Google Maps says: 9 miles.
Crap.

Really Downtown Hartford? Really? After running a quick marathon in the rain — over the river and under the highway— we returned invigorated, with cable, and ready to take back the GB reins. See what we do for you guys?

On Thursday and Friday nights, “hotel room service” meant pizzas and pitchers of soda.  On Saturday, though, it was face-rocking time, and Pitbull reclaimed the term with that killer riff that forces your hands into the air.  Students hit the closing party ready to rock, and we made the last hour of the conference count.  We did cross paths with one group who elected to get some sleep instead, to which Hamma solemnly replied “Well, I hope our face-rocking doesn’t wake you,” as a single tear fell down his cheek.

Thanks to LED fixtures from our friends at ECLPS, we kept our carbon footprint a little smaller than usual (to honor NACA’s “green” theme) without sacrificing intensity.  The compact one-hour set meant an aggressive night on the mix, and some extra push-ups to get the sweat going a little faster than usual.  In the end, it was one hell of an hour.

And you know what… if our face-rocking woke you, we’re not sorry.  Sleeping is for parents and Sundays.