Rioting

Yesterday I went to some all day music festival featuring a bunch of punk bands that were last famous in approximately 1996. There was a flood warning, a 70% chance of thunderstorms, we were supposed to sell merchandise for 12 full hours, and my two friends and I were not excited. In fact, we were all thinking of bailing. Then we went through 15 lots trying to find the one we "couldn't miss".

Luckily for us, as soon as we got there, our luck changed, thanks to corporate greed. Turns out the promoters won't allow the bands to sell their own items. All we had to do was check them in, their employees do the rest, and, naturally, take a cut. Suddenly, our long dreary day brightened considerably, both literally and figuratively.

We went to a bar down the street and drank for a few hours. $100 (for me) and a new friend (also for me) later we went back to the venue. I changed in the parking lot and waited while my friends used the porta potties. I butted into a conversation going on next to me to pass the time. (Three minutes feels like three hours when I'm drunk and bored.) Some guys were talking to a slightly older dude about who they were excited to see. Older dude mentioned something about coming from Oregon. My eyebrows shot up, I made a confused/disgusted face and I asked what band there was so fucking exciting that it was worth traveling from Oregon. The two other guys dropped their jaws and did a little confused giggling. Then they realized my question was serious. Turns out his band was what was so fucking exciting. Ooops. I apologized, threw in a comment about how my friend wanted me to buy his band's shirt for him, and started confusing Portland for a state. He was from Bend. I bet they were glad when my friends were finished peeing and we left. It was 2:30PM.

I got bitten and my ass slapped repeatedly, by my friends. I have no idea why they did it, but after a dozen bruises showing on my arm, I bit back. Apparently I bit hard, they stopped. Over the next several hours, I collected new friends and generally just enjoyed being a wasted, but not belligerent fool. I had like four text messages from people I don't know when I looked at my phone this morning. Awesome.

By the time the bigger named bands started playing, I was getting tired. I sat down on a bench and started nodding off. Some guy was sitting on the back of the bench, and I oh so politely inquired as to wether I might just rest my head against him to sleep for a bit. It was 7:00 PM. We missed the headliner, forgot to collect the stuff, and left some other stuff in the car, and headed home. I was in my house by 11:00PM. Awesome. Too bad I'm so old, back in the day I would've lasted at least another few hours. Well, I probably also would've ended up puking or making out with a stranger, so I guess I'll take the trade off. Maybe.