SOURCE: Orlando Sentinel
It’s a long drive in the darkness before the GPS tells me to turn seemingly into the woods of Oviedo. I make the right turn of faith and find myself on a dirt drive, headed for what looks like a festival’s worth of lights. A man flags me down before I’m in too deep and asks if I’m here for the show.
“It’s $15 a head,” says the man, who I later learn is Tom Moch. “It’s for a great cause too. We’re helping a guy stay in his house.”
I didn’t have an official invite, so I didn’t know what kind of cover to expect. I count all my cash, and I’m about $3 shy. “That’s OK,” says Moch. He takes it and tells me to turn off my headlights and make a right at the bonfire.
I’m driving blind until 15 feet of glowing orange fire appears before me. People walk and laugh like dark shadows I must avoid hitting. Classic rock is coming from the stage to my left and the smell of grilling meat surrounds me.