It's that conflict of emotions that can drive even the smoothest club rat crazy: that familiar "I love you but I hate you" that gnaws at your insides when SXSW comes to an end. This annual partay is so on and so damn fun it hurts, leaving your indie radar and your liver in tears of joy and you, like a child with a popped balloon, wearing a big frown when it's done. The megafest has so much to hear, see, smell, laugh at … some plan way ahead and coordinate their exact routes minute for minute, band by band. Others get a cab and go wherever the festival takes them 'til four in the morning. And when that best party of the year is over, the only consolation is this: It'll be back next year.
