Thursday, June 3, 2010
Worst Blogger Ever/ Sasquatch
I am awful at hobbies. I pick something up with every intention of being committed and diligent. This lasts for approximately four days. I tried painting. Produced a few for Christmas gifts, then petered off.
This trend is continuing with this new hobby: blogging. I know it's a great thing to do in terms of my future, considering I want to be a writer and self-publishing is pretty much a requirement now, but I find it so difficult to integrate something into my life. Am I already this old and stubborn? Seems like it. So I've made it my goal. Tonight I painted AND am writing this, so really I'm two for two. Let's see how long I can keep this going...
Well the big news. This past weekend I road-tripped down to The Gorge, Washington with more people I didn't know than I did. Piled into a 15 passenger van sans the back two rows of seat we headed south of the border to the land of 1.5L bottles of wine for $9.97.
First stop (after a Mexican adventure at the Pacific Inn right before the border)was Tulalip near Seattle for an epic Walmart trip. Torrential downpour didn't dampen our spirits when entering the most massive, consumerist superstore you've ever seen. Imagine Canadian Walmart on crack with a liquor aisle added. Oh and produce. Strange combination. We stocked up on camping essentials (sandwiches, bathing suit tops, and $16 30-packs of beer) and continued our journey.
After approximately 9 hours, one Mexican fiesta and no sustenance, we arrived in the quaint town of Ellensburg. Streets lined with fast food restaurants facilitated the convergence of our convoy, the last leg to Sasquatch Festival 2010. Away from the rain of the Pacific Northwest, we were in the desert (think Okanagan). Past windmills and brush we arrived at a pile of cars lined up to get into the campground. It was getting late but we had some friends saving us a prime spot next to what would become the party haystack.
After arriving at our spot near Honey Bucket (the port-a-potties) 27, we cracked a setting-up-tent beer and set up our tent. We roamed the campsite after wrangling a mash of gortex and poles we wandered the campsite and scoped our campsites to the best of our headlamps abilities. Deciding to save up our energy for the next three days we went to bed at a time which would soon come to seem very early.
In attempt to keep this post a reasonable length I will describe the three days of the festival as such:
- 7:30am: Wake up to extreme heat. Strip off all layers of clothing. Listen in to conversations of bacon, how wasted someone was the night before, or security yelling with a drawl at the hay bail partiers
- 7:45am: Set-up an outside of tent to resume listening to conversations. Apply sunscreen.
- 8:30am: Tap into the first beer. Play flip cup. Consider a hose shower.
- 9:30am: Make self publicly acceptable in terms of dress.
- 10:00am: Continue drinking. Pack bags for the day.
- 11:00am: Converse with friends and frolic around campsite.
- 12:30pm: Consider entering the festival site. Crack another beer instead.
- 1:00pm: Grab another beer for the road and hit
- 1:30pm: Enter the venue, be amazed by the scenery and beer prices. Enjoy music and dancing and the best time of your life.
- 2:00am: Return to campsite (not necessarily your own). Roam the campsite for sweet dance parties.
- 3:00-3:30am: Attempt going to bed. Be awoken by people describing dance parties with lasers they "didn't know they had" and those looking for "MARRRRRRLIIIIIIIIN!"
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Basically, it was the most exhausting and awesome weekend of my life (or at least this summer). The rest really seems downhill from here. I met tonnes of new people, listened to bands new and old, and danced more than you have danced in your entire life.
Some favourites you may ask? Vampire Weekend put on the most unreal show. Biggest dance party ever. Watching them with the sun go down over The Gorge was just the cherry on top. A-Track was a great way to spend hours dancing in the sweaty, sweaty dance tent. I really could just list every band or performer I saw here. So just look at the schedule and imagine they were amazing, cause that would be accurate.
The way back was rough. The van was hot. Subway in the States doesn't have Caesar dressing. And no one's brains were running at full speed. Though this was the case, the company was still great and the reminiscing continued for the five and a half hours back to Canada, the land of moderation and less alcoholism.
Now here I sit with nothing more to show for my weekend than a few pictures, random sunburns, and a sore throat. Well that and some of the most unreal memories to look back on.