REWIND ONE WEEK. I meet the 35-year-old Oakenfold in his Los Angeles home (though a British citizen, he relocated three years ago), where he is packing for our red-eye flight to San Salvador. I get a chance to snoop through the gold and platinum records - both his own and the highly successful ones that he has produced or scored (Happy Monday's Pills Thrills & Bellyaches, for instance, or the sound track to The Matrix Reloaded) - that line the walls of his home studio, as well as the kind of personal music memorabilia (BMI Film Music Awards, Grammy nominations) that musicians of his caliber tend to fill their basements with. But it's the ranting letter from the late Hunter S. Thompson to Oakenfold's former lawyer that is the true treasure here, though beyond the greeting that opens the letter, there is absolutely nothing suitable for printing in this magazine.

Suffice it to say, Thompson was adequately ticked off at the lawyer - we'll call her Shirley - over his payment for his participation in a track on Oakenfold's 2002 debut,­ Bunkka ("Nixon's Spirit"). He let Shirley know about it in no uncertain terms, using just the kind of ­colorful ­language that Thompson made a living off of. Oakenfold says Shirley called him in near-tears. "What are you crying about?" he asked her. "You've just gotten a letter from Hunter S. Thompson!" And so it now hangs framed on Oakenfold's office wall.

Oakenfold travels light, with one Tumi suiter (meticulously packed) and a smaller Tumi bag that houses his records and CDs. This is henceforth guarded as if it contains the Holy Grail, which, for a DJ, I guess it does. Without music, there is no show (or career, for that matter). Not to mention that, in addition to his music, the equipment in his home studio is the crown jewel for thieves who prey on electronic artists (it is for this reason that I'm not allowed to disclose the whereabouts of Oakenfold's home). After catching an episode of Joey (yes, Joey), we head off for LAX, where Oakenfold gets chosen for a secondary security screening. Even celebrities aren't immune.