Better than: Having no show at all.
If there was every any doubt about South Florida's raving youth and their commitment to Krewella's hard and dirty party antics, all nay-sayers were hushed forever by the chanting hundreds who couldn't even get in the front door.
"Let us in, let us in," the mob demanded, but the bouncer's waving arms had nothing but bad news.
A line of hundreds had built up at the club's entrance long before doors opened at 8 p.m. With an hour to go before Krewella's midnight take over, the fire marshal had taken one look at the madhouse of heaving bodies inside and ordered a standstill. No one else was going to get in, even if they had previously purchased a ticket for $30.