This year’s festivities consisted of a healthy Canadian population (whose numerous flags could be seen waving proudly from the campground), who perhaps even outnumbered American attendees. If you like greasy, over-priced festival food, it’s the closest to heaven an atheist can get. The Sasquatch! Music Festival is like any other modern commercialized music festival spanning several days: its chemically-charged attendees bake under a merciless sun to share their common love of live music and sleeping on the ground, a multitude of Honey Buckets the closest thing resembling a bathroom for the duration. driver, the farmers whose sprinkler was damaged were able to extract him the next day, and what a show that was!)
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wedged beneath the agricultural sprinkler not 20 feet from your tent, the screeching metal grind of its air conditioner unit being crunched while pipes sag and water gushes freely to the ground while your neighbors cheer.
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At a certain point in the early morning ruckus the realization dawns upon you-much like the soft glow smeared across the eastern horizon heralded by countless drunken revelers-that you might be a little old for this sort of thing (which, at 24, is saying a lot).