All Good Festival & Campout : Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

It was hot, and by hot I mean hot as fuck. Clad in a pair of cutoffs and a bikini top, not even the thick white layer of deodorant could hide the undeniable stink emanating from my underarms. We had only been there 12 hours, and the layer of dirt and film on my body, mixed with my late night wet wipe piss removal session, and the 100+ degree temperatures had rendered me a hot fucking mess. After laying in our tent like sweating zombies for a few hours, I filled a bowl with bottled water, and proceeded to give myself a sponge bath. My face was clean, my armpits fresh, and my crotch smiled. I was ready to tackle the day.

We wandered down the hill back into the concert area and began scouting out the vendors in search of the veggie burrito I had been fantasizing about since 1989. The 47 minutes of sleep I had gotten, combined with the staggering heat was producing a buzz equivalent to that of about a 1/2 a hit of acid with a few bong hits on top. We deliriously meandered back up amongst the campers and tried to find shade. Our tent was an inferno but it was shady-ish, so we sat in there and pounded water which came out through our pores simultaneously. I caught a whiff of Aaron’s armpit. I caught a whiff of my armpit. The whole tent smelled like musky BO, patchouli, and incense…that’s right, like hippies.

I felt so gross, and that is when it hit us. We were GLAMPERS! There were AIR CONDITIONED SHOWERS for us! We grabbed our backpacks filled with toiletries, towels and clean clothes and asked security where the hell the showers were. Did I mention that it was hot as hell? Like so hot breathing hurt? We began the trek through the campground, and we saw a very large canopy tent with sprayers all over the top for misting. That must be for the common folk, we thought/said to each other under our breath laughing at what assholes we sounded like/were. But there was no water being sprayed, just a bunch of sweaty hot ass people utilizing it for shade. What the hell? We walked up further to where the trailer/showers were, and were told that the water had not been delivered yet and to try back later! Sorry! FUCK! We were GLAMPERS! Didn’t they know how much we paid for the privilege of those fucking showers?! I didn’t actually say that out loud, but I must have said it with my face, because Aaron, who is generally much nicer and often more positive than I am, just genuinely smiled at the guy and said, “It’s cool man! no worries, we’ll come back later!” I just looked at him and shook my head, it’s just one of the nine million things I love about him.

After knocking around for a while, we decided that the blisteringly hot shade of our tent was a much better place to watch the music until Dark Star Orchestra came on at 4:20, of course. It was now only about 11:30. We laid there, sweating for an hour until we were startled out of our personal oblivion as the first band took the stage and the music brought lazy campers out of their tents like vampires at dusk. If I forgot to mention that it was hot, I want to tell you that it was hot. We decided to make the trek to go check on the showers again. As we got up the path a bit, we noticed happy wet people under the sprayers, and we picked up the pace. We got to the first trailer, where there was a guy sitting at a table under an umbrella with a cash box. The door was open, it looked hot and disgusting inside, but we really didn’t care as long as it was wet. We watched the guy take money from the people in front of us and let them into the showers/trailer.

When it was our turn, he looked at our orange wristbands and said, “Oh! You guys are glampers! You’re over there!” Our gaze followed his pointed finger to the next trailer down. This was The Hilton of shower trailers, it was shiny and white, with three sets of stairs leading up to three separate entrance doors. We both ran up as if we had finally arrived at Oz and were about to meet the Wizard. When we opened the door we nearly orgasmed, along with every other person in there. Ahhhhhhhhh! Oh my Goodddddddddd!!! was all we could say/moan, and all we could hear other people in the showers saying/moaning. It was not just cold in there, it was fucking magical freezing blowing frigid air!

It was basically a long trailer with a bench and hooks running along the front, and then a step up to about 10 shower stalls side by side with curtains. There was not a shred of modesty to be found, people undressed as if they had been chased by bees and were covered in spiders. When I threw myself into that shower, it was without a doubt, instantly among the top 10 best moments of my life.

I think Aaron and I said Oh My GOD about 311 times while we each stood in our own showers under the surprisingly amazing water pressure. The noises people were making in there was hilarious, you would have thought you were in an Orgasmatron.

Once we had thoroughly frozen our blood, and were scrubbed so clean that we actually changed colors, we stepped out of the showers, dried off, and I slipped into an old indian print hippie dress without a thing on underneath, and it felt like heaven. We exited the trailer back into the burning hot sun. Apparently I did not realize that it was totally annoying and obnoxious to skip down the path, spinning around with my frozen wet hair sing-shouting about how I just had THE BEST AIR CONDITIONED SHOWER IN THE WHOLE WORLD while the common folk were dropping of heat stroke without access to such a luxury. Fortunately, I have Aaron to point these things out to me.

By the time we got back to our tent I was starting to sweat profusely again, and just then, one of those freakishly cold winds began to blow and we watched the black clouds start to move in. It felt amazing, and everyone who had not had the glory of the air-conditioned shower suddenly came out of their tents and began making the same exact noises/moans that I had previously heard in the showers. Ahhhhhhh! Oh My GOD! It feels SO GOOD!!  We watched the fierce lightning start to crackle and branch down in the distance, and everyone started taking down pop up tents, putting all of their shit into their tents and zipping everything up in preparation for one hell of a big ass summer storm.

The rain began, with the fury of a thick pounding downpour. Lightning cracked nearby, the wind was gusting and the sky was an ominous black. We had our tent completely zipped shut, so we were not privy to the cool wind whipping around, instead we were in our stagnant den of old body odor and damp sheets. This provided a wonderful sense of claustrophobia, one that lasted for about an hour straight.

After that hour of feeling like Dorothy before her house got swept away, the rain stopped, the sun came out, and it was delightfully about 20 degrees cooler. It was also just about time for DSO to start, so we gathered up trash bags to sit on in the grass/mud and went back down to the lawn. Once we had our blankets spread out over our plastic bags, and my feet were thick with mud, the band began. Much to ours and everyone else’s dismay, the band was having serious technical difficulties because of the storm, and most of their PA system was not working. They played anyway, but it sort of sucked because it sounded like they were playing 100 miles away, under water, being broadcast through a sea shell. But we didn’t care, we were in awe of the spectacle unfolding around us.

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6 replies

  1. HAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHHAAAHAAAHAAHHA…(etc,etc, ad infinitum, ad nauseum)…whoooo, I think I am in love with your brain…or your funny bone…or something…sheesh

  2. Having done Glastonbury in baking hot sun without a cloud in the sky, rain and drizzle that turned everywhere into a reenactment of the Somme (without the fear and death), and a mixture of the two with thunderstorms – I am absolutely loving this.
    Your smug demeanour on leaving the showers was much like mine after paying to use the Comfy Crappers – pristine joss sticked toilets, cleaned after every use. x

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