Future Hippies Pre-Patchouli Circus Freakout
  • Future Hippies' Pre-Patchouli Circus Freakout

Everyone's all, "Pickathon is such a cool festival. The food is so good. The bands are awesome. It's such a civilized affair!" True, true true, but here are some things they don't tell you:

You are surrounded by hippies, who do everything in their power to crush you in their soppy dank grossness. Let's not even talk about how inconsiderate these miserable fucks are—actually no, let's talk about it!
3 a.m.—First off, I did not realize that bands would be playing ALL NIGHT LONG right by my tent, but it's cool because a great pickin' 'n' grinnin' old-timey band starts playing, with a female dynamo singing.
5 a.m.—Band clears out for bed. Group of musically challenged hippies take up the reins.
5:30 a.m.—Clogging happens. Really loud clogging, with some spotty tambourine playing and enthusiastic bucket beating.
6 a.m.—Hippies make up their own song as the sun comes up. It goes, "Walking in the morning/walking in the morning/walking in the morning/walking in the morning." These are the only lyrics to their song. Rinse and repeat for an hour. Seriously, rinse and repeat, hippies! There are twigs in your hair!
7 a.m.—With the Grateful Dead playing in the background on a stereo, the hippies mistakenly and boisterously believe they know all the words to Neil Young's "Heart of Gold." They are wrong.
7:30 a.m.—Hippies crawl back into the dirty hole they came from.
7:45 a.m.—Nearby generator kicks on! It sounds like this, "RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" Thirty minutes and 50 decibels later, it mercifully shuts off.
8:30 a.m.—Feral hippie child shouts, "Mommy, I have to go potty!" The remaining li'l hippies in the tent village perk up their ears and come screaming from their tents.

Moral: Bring a bottle of Tylenol PM and some earplugs. Why did no one tell me this?

Other hippie boner-killers:
* Alison was struck by a runaway hula hoop.
* Ned saw a baby being bathed in a porta-potty sink.
* An intimidating hippie lady told Raquel the shower line would move faster if she just stood in line naked.
* A football huddle of four trustafarians untangled as I was walking back to envelop me in their hug circle maw. For two petrifying minutes, Aaron, Matt, Amy, and Ryan "hugged" me. I don't think I breathed the entire time, my body rigid, suspicious, and full of peace-love-and-understanding opposites. Reluctantly they released me. After chugging a beer, I walked back by to see them with two new hug-receivers in the belly of their hug beast. If only I could've warned them.