I don't go to many music festivals, because most of the Coachellas and SXSWs of the world sound like a fucking nightmare—corporate shlock, obscene prices, crowds of drunk chodes, etc. Pickathon is pretty much the only game for me (the Doe Bay fest is nice too, but good luck getting in there... I managed to make it once), for all the many reasons we can't stop frothing at the mouth about it. A big part of the overall pleasantness of the festival is its cleanliness. The reusable dishware and lack of literal trash helps, of course, but because staying the night at Pendarvis Farm involves camping in a tent, you might encounter a dirt-booger or two. But just because you're camping it doesn't mean you gotta go full dirt-dog.
The first time I came to Pickathon I assumed I would just have to get into being a filthy, stinko hippie. I put my game face on, until I heard someone mention showers. Sure enough, tucked subtly away at the festival's fringes were not just showers, but gorgeous transportable wood showers stocked with towels and Dr. Bronners that you can use for a highly justifiable $5. They've since pared down the offerings, but at the time you could also take a sauna in a converted trailer and get a full-body massage. (I hope they bring this back, because sleeping in a tent—even with an air mattress—always makes my body feel like someone stuck me in a sack and dropped me off the side of a mountain.) Anyhow, I don't know why they don't trumpet this more. There's just one tiny mention of $5 showers buried deep on one page of the current website, but for some of us it's crucial, beautiful information. Pack a couple fivers, my fellow shower fans, cuz spraying eau de toilette in your pits and crotch (also tastefully known as a "whore bath") is fine for many types of parties, but it doesn't really scream "Pickathon."
- Tim LaBarge
- Behold: the clincher