Those already acquainted with music festivals know that day one never goes according to plan. Your group always runs behind, you underestimate traffic and there’s almost always technical difficulties (in this case, the Bass Pod stage’s circuits blowing out twice during TrollPhace and Getter’s set). But figuring out how to navigate through a multi-sensory spectacle is half the experience.

I attended EDC on Friday as a newbie, not knowing what to expect from the gigantic underground-turned-mainstream event that has made Vegas one of the premiere destinations for EDM. From my entry into the festival grounds to my tired trek back to the car, here’s a quick rundown of my night.

12:35 a.m. It took us more than two hours to get from our starting point in central Las Vegas to the Speedway. Sure, we started later than we planned, but now at least we know we’ll stay for the sunrise.

12:38 a.m. It’s past midnight, and the Speedway is crazy hot. The blacktop creates a life-sucking heat vortex that doesn’t show any mercy until way into the morning—like 2 a.m. Luckily, I made a point of staying hydrated all day prior to the festival, and I brought a giant empty water bottle to fill up inside.

12:41 a.m. Noise pollution is a very real thing. Just entering the festival is a cacophony of sound, and it’s only decipherable when you’re actually near a stage. Throughout the grounds, everything seems to be grumbling and shaking and pulsating.

12:45 a.m. Even the staff go-carts have flashing lights on them.

1 a.m. I thought selfie sticks were banned, but they must not have been cracking down very hard. I’m seeing them everywhere tonight, and everyone has brought their narcissistic A-game.

1:35 a.m. Fatboy Slim takes the Circuit Grounds stage at 1:30, and the stage is huge—about the size of the Sahara tent at Coachella—and it’s also packed. He brings some ‘90s nostalgia to the night, but after a while I’m ready to see something more in my wheelhouse.

2:05 a.m. We head over to Stage 7, a spot unabashedly sponsored from top to bottom by 7 Up. Here, house heavyweight Mark Knight is spinning and the dance party is much smaller, but it’s the kind of smooth, funky vibe I’ve been looking for.

2:16 a.m. It smells like meatloaf.

2:28 a.m. As Knight nears his set the crowd starts chanting his name. A woman hoists herself onto a guy’s shoulders and exchanges a kandi bracelet with Knight before the set is over. Aww. The PLUR is real.

2:30 a.m. I can’t help but feel like I’ve been here before. It's an actual carnival—on steroids. The festival grounds are reminiscent of those childhood days with tons of thrill rides and glitzed-out art cars, but I can’t find funnel cake anywhere.

3:36 a.m. We wander over to the Wasteland stage, which is “where the ski masks hang out,” according to fellow Weekly staffer Andrea Domanick. This side of the fest definitely has a creepy Mad Max thing going for it; burning trash cans and piles of old cars—the whole area is made to look like a post-apocalyptic junkyard. If the rest of the festival is a futuristic dreamland, this is my nightmare.

3:42 We finish the night out with SLS resident Steve Angello over at the incredible Kinetic Field. The Swedish House Mafia member has drawn a huge crowd, but we work our way to the front for a better look.

3:45 a.m. There are waterfalls on the stage.

3:52 a.m. Dancing under the giant owl moments before sunrise, I can’t believe that I’m still up. Surprisingly, I’m doing okay.

4:01 a.m.: I’ve counted 26 people in headdresses. Oh, cultural appropriation. Will people ever learn?

4:23 a.m. We think we’ve left with enough time to escape most of the traffic—the festival doesn’t end for another hour—but boy, are we wrong.

5:25 a.m. Still in our car, we watch the sun rise as the entire parking lots turns from happy ravers into pissed-off attendees. We’re going to be here for a while.

6:05 a.m. Still haven’t moved.

7 a.m. We’re in the same spot we were in two and a half hours ago. I don’t understand how Insomniac hasn’t worked out this parking situation five years in. Advice to those heading out tonight and Sunday: Pack your car with heat-safe snacks and plenty of water, because this will likely happen again.

8:12 a.m. We finally make it out of the parking lot and onto Las Vegas Boulevard. No longer an EDC virgin, I’ve had plenty of time sitting idle in the car to reflect on the bewildering festival, which for me, wasn’t so much about the music as exploring everything the festival had to offer. It’s a complete sensory overload, and after being up for 26-plus hours, there are only three things are on my mind: water, sleep and a breakfast burrito. Consider it the post-EDC trinity.