There's sleep deprivation, and then there's Trinidad Carnival. If you thought New Orleans Mardi Gras was a free-for-all, Carnival on this Caribbean island is Biblical. This party, with 300,000 active participants, tends to fly under the radar because tourists rarely visit Trinidad. Blame it on the country's red-flag reputation, doubly sensationalized in the news. But much like Rio de Janeiro or Johannesburg, most of the crime takes place far off in the ghetto. Another reason Trinidad jaunts are few and far between: there's not much to do here. You'll find a handful of beaches, some hiking, and tons of fried chicken (there are more KFCs in Trinidad than anywhere else in the world). Even locals hibernate all year, awakening only in the days leading up to Ash Wednesday, when they have their last chance to indulge in booze and hump each other—literally—for 72 hours straight.

Upon arrival on Sunday, the unofficial kick-off day, I headed straight to the Angostura Bartending Competition. Like any bartending challenge, you load up on the free booze until the bar's dry, then head to the next party. I never found out who won, but I don't think that's the point. I did however, get my first earful of soca music—a variation on calypso and the musical theme of Carnival.

Everyone—and I mean everyone—gets involved for Trinidad's Carnival, including Brian Lara, the world's top cricket player, who lent his personal hilltop home as the setting for the night's most-talked about party. Scalpers were selling tickets for $300 U.S., and rightfully so. As soon as guests passed the gate, they were treated to sublime sunset views, a big night sky, DJs, live music, and copious amounts of magical booze and food. At the party, I headed straight to Richard's Bake & Shark, an island institution that serves shark sandwiches, which Travel Channel host Andrew Zimmern praised as the best fish sandwich he's ever had. I'd call it the best sandwich I've ever had. Period. The bread was a biscuit and pita hybrid, piping hot and doughy, while the shark was seasoned perfectly, and garnished with garlic and pepper sauce. Because I couldn't find any drugs or dudes to french, I got jacked on Hennessy instead.

In any case, I needed a breather, and headed over to the Savannah Stage a few blocks away, where a major competition was in progress: The King and Queen of Carnival were being chosen. Hundreds showed up for this event, where ten contestants of each gender graced the central platform to show off their elaborate costumes made mostly out of fiberglass and aluminum, some forty feet high. The contestants were like drag queens (or kings) at a gay pride parade, only their massive costumes were connected to their own floats. Because I was feeling a little too sober, I headed back to Brian Lara's, just in time to check out the headlining act, Machel Montano, the reigning king of soca music. His hit song, "Advantage," got the locals all worked up. Trinidadians went wild, humping anyone they could find, which is actually a dance called "wining" (Trinidadian's version of sidongponit), and everyone kept dancing until the final glass of Hennessy was served.

You'd think that would be it for my night, but I headed back to the Hyatt Regency Trinidad, the only luxury hotel on the island, for a quick catnap before following hundreds of people into the streets at 4am for J'ouvert. This mid-morning celebration marks the day slavery was abolished. Street paraders march to more soca, waving Trinidadian flags, symbolically rubbing themselves with mud and red paint. We danced until sunrise, and every so often, masqueraders would stop to "wine." I was attacked by three large females, who humped me up against a car, setting off the alarm. Without phasing anyone, the party continued on. And on. Eventually, I returned to the Hyatt at 8am, where I was hosed down at the gates with Machel's "Advantage" playing in the background. People were just leaving the hotel to join the party, which would last, uninterrupted, for 48 more hours.

The most important day was Tuesday, the actual day of the Carnival, where several dozen bands hit the parade route. The best seat was back at Savannah Stage, where the parade started at 8am. Each band was outfitted in their own unique costumes (from feathered headpieces and tasseled armors for men, to the least amount of clothing possible for women), and equipped with their own caravan with a DJ and an MC. There were hundreds of these groups. When they got on stage, they let it all go for the judges, unleashing their best dance moves. The energy was infectious, the spirit unbeatable, and the strong amount of "wining" like a tropical disease. Who let these rabbits out of their cages? If you're not humping, you're doing the actual dance of stomping with both feet. I failed at both—"wining" and dancing—as I worked through the crowded streets later. I tried a few humping moves at Hyatt's gym when I returned around 4pm, watching the live telecast of the parade on the TV monitor. I tried at dinner, around 8 pm, when the parade was just starting to end, but I guess I just don't have the correct thrust in my hips. Only a year to practice before the next carnival.