Probably why I had so much trouble giving away glowsticks in the campground. Everyone looked at me like I was going to confiscate their drugs if they accepted them.
Dude! Thanks again for all the glowsticks! They were awesome.
Word. EVERYONE we offered glowsticks to in line, and at the venue were so damn thankful and happy. It was like we were giving them hundred dollar bills, and we were only giving them two or three at a time. It's so strange I couldn't give them away 100 at a time in the campground.
Post by Space_Suitor on Jun 1, 2012 12:19:33 GMT -8
Sasquatch 2012 in review by: Spaceman K. Nate
For the past 11 years, enthusiastic partygoers have waited anxiously for months to make a pilgrimage into to the high desert of central Washington State, to be a part of an incredible phenomenon taking place known as Sasquatch Music Festival.
Here, the middle of nowhere becomes the center of everywhere. Office buildings and parking meters have long faded from memory, as Doug Firs morph first into bushes and low-lying shrubs, grass, dirt. Rock formations become increasingly precarious, and wind turbines are herds of futuristic buffalo. The sun is hot through the windshield. Your foot begins to turn to lead.
SUDDENLY! As you round a curve your heart leaps into your throat and yo-yo’s back down to the pit of your stomach as you realize that 1.) WE’RE HERE!, and 2.) It’s going to take FOREVER to get there! The line of arriving cars goes on for miles! What more could one expect of an event with tens of thousands of attendees arriving from all states and countries?
With any luck you will snake through the line (or secret entrance) before your strength, patience and gasoline are exhausted. It is advisable to erect your tent and campsite immediately, accompanied by some grooving tunes + chilled booze, and a bit of Tarzan-style chest-beating,…if you’re of a mind to do so.
A highly-prepared party animal (“Sasquatcher”) will follow this routine on Thursday night before the first official day of concerts. Arriving not-early means arriving late means party-time missed. GET IT? Penny and I arrived late. Thursday was spent scrambling for maximum preparedness, which spilled over into Friday morning. Oh well though, we only missed a few of bands I was interested in seeing. One of them was James McCartney, son of one living, legendary Beatle. We also missed Mark Lanegan Band and Explosions in the Sky.
We should have taken that back-road entrance. DAMMITZ!
I was relieved that we were shown into a camping spot that was easy to find and not as far away as many people had to hike, and not near the Honey Bucket porta-potties. (Penny has a deathly fear of using them, and nobody wants to be camped near a row of them!)
We got drunk on Seagrams 7 and set up the tent while chatting with our weekend neighbors as the Friday sun began to set. Satisfied with our setup, we set off on foot toward the music we could hear booming from the concert area a mile (or so) away.
Halfway there we stopped and waited in a ridiculous ticket-for-wristband exchange line that we were incorrectly informed was the only line to go through. Waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting in the dark. I should have known there would be another wristband station nearer the entrance. Finally we got our bracelets and were able to set off down the long, winding, dusty rock path that leads to the security lines (thankfully not enforced on the first night). Onward we pressed, breath puffing, excited and disoriented in the darkness at the irregularly sloping ground beneath our feet.
At last we crested the rise of the hill that overlooks the mainstage area. WOMP WOMP WOMP WOMP!! The dubstep dj act known as “Pretty Lights” was in full swing. Far, far below it seemed that every inch of space was filled with bodies, like maggots, writhing individually in a mass of harmonious confusion. Booming bass and trill trills, whooping and cacophony. Massive upward ejaculations of glowsticks coming simultaneously from all sectors of the dance pit at precisely the right moment. This was the epicenter--the center of the epic! And so it would remain for the three following nights!
After the first night, time begins to escape its’ linear form. Sasquatch is a test of endurance: temperature extremes (boiling at noon, freezing at night), rugged terrain, dehydration and starvation, and the dreaded nemesis of party animals everywhere: sobriety.
Sleep is a crutch, and at its’ least it is an annoying interruption to party time. However, it is important to pace one’s self, so as to not crash out before returning home to your less-than-exciting regular routine. Some people actually bring a couch from home! (see photos)
Other highlights of my Sasquatch weekend this year:
Finding the golden umbrella to win VIP bracelets Spaceman costume Hypothermia (not a band) Encountering strangers from the internet Being recognized by strangers in a crowd Gross profit, free schwag, stolen gin Sucking pistachio shells at Sasquatch Finally realizing that Jack White is pretty cool (minus Meg) Beck (he’s got more than just 2 turntables & a microphone) Manhandled like a baby being pulled from the front row (hey, it was my girlfriend who pussed out, not me!) Impotent smarties
A million thanks to all of Sasquatch. Can’t wait til next year!