Hello, and welcome to the season finale of Worst. Night. Ever. where a Mercury staff writer is sent to a very uncomfortable (for them) event chosen by you the Blogtown reader. Sometimes we return a better person, having opened ourselves up to a new experience, thereby broadening our very limited horizons. Other times, the situation we find ourselves in is FAR WORSE than we could have ever imagined, and we sincerely want to die rather than spend another moment in the hell our loyal readers have placed us in.

For my Worst. Night. Ever. at the Harvest Christian Music Festival, it was definitely the LATTER.

Thank you, Jesus! (For putting Humpy through hell.)
  • "Thank you, Jesus! (For putting Humpy through hell.)"

After the jump, a full description of what I count as one of the worst 15 nights of my life, and yes, I'm counting my parents' death.

••••

I wasn't there for most of the opening band at the Harvest Christian Music Fest, because it was held at the Port of Kalama on the Kalama River in Washington, about 30 minutes to the north, and I was stuck in I-5 traffic for 45 minutes. However, in order to satisfy Blogtownies I spent the entire trip listening to Christian music or NPR on the radio (it's hard to say which I hate more).

I finally arrived at the outdoor park at Port of Kalama just as God rockers 16 Cities was finishing up their set. Frankly it was a beautiful day on the river, boasting clear skies and a toasty 84 degrees. Harvest Fest was put on by Riverview Community Church who strongly believes "the entire Bible is inspired by God," there "is only one true God," Jesus is coming back any second, we're all creepy sinners, and "water baptism" is "an individual's responsibility and privilege before God." These guys aren't fooling around.

hyperstatic.JPG

When Hyper Static Union took the outdoor stage to play in front of the somewhat underwhelming crowd (maybe 100 or so… half of which were over the age of 40… a quarter over 60), I sat right up front. Right next to the speakers. Because I knew that's the way you'd want it. Turns out that Hyper Static Union's brand of "God Alt Rock" was not HORRIBLE. It was more like listening to an hour of Everclear, which is more boring than uncomfortable. Nevertheless, I quickly picked up on the choruses and boisterously sang along. "I'M GONNA MEET HIM IN THE AIIIIIRRR! FAR ABOVE THIS MESS THAT WE CREEEEEATED!" Ugh.

pray.JPG

There was a lot of praying going on off stage. HEY GUYS! THAT'S TOTALLY RUDE! I'm not talking on my cell phone, so you guys can wait to talk to God, okay?

After Hyper Static Union left the stage, Bob "the sin butcher" Butcher took the stage to give a totally sneaky sermon. This guy was good. I had no idea he was trying to win my soul until halfway through his story about how he met his wife at a Christian music event, and proposed in front of a crowd of thousands, and shouldn't we devote OUR life to God, and propose to Him as well? Because we totally love Him, right? And he's the only one, right? And we should remain monogamous to God, and treat him with the same respect we give our earthly wife, and let us pray: Heavenly Father... I love you... I want to marry you... I want to give everything to you... I can't wait until I get to heaven, so I can finally be with you... where I can give everything to you... everything, Lord... take me, Lord... take me, Lord... take me all the way. Amen.

That made me feel squirmy in my swimsuit area.

looklikeshit.JPG

OH, I FORGOT TO MENTION ONE CRITICAL THING. In order to "fit in" with the summer time Christians, I wore cargo shorts and a Polo. And since it was 84 degrees I didn't bring any other jackets or clothing. HUGE, HUGE, HUGE MISTAKE. By the end of Bob "the sin butcher" Butcher's sermon, the temperature had dropped 15 degrees and with 15 mph winds blowing right off the river. With no cover, it was getting very nippy. I ran to the car to see if I could find a towel... anything to cover my goose-bumpy arms and legs. No dice. I would have to tough it out.

The sun dropped behind the trees, and with it the temperature. It was getting really fucking cold now. AND YET? I PROMISED MYSELF NOT TO LEAVE UNTIL AFTER THE FINAL ACT. Taking the stage was Love Song, who apparently is some famous hippie Jesus band from the early '70s who decided to get back together for a 40 year reunion tour.

lovesong.JPG

Their sound check took 30 FREAKING MINUTES. Now the temperature was dropping like a rock. There I was, sitting on the cold ground, teeth chattering, while these hippies spent 30 minutes chanting, "Check... check... can't hear Bob's monitor. Nope, can't hear it. Check... check... there it is... nope, it's gone. Can't hear Bob. Nope. No Bob. Nope. Nope. Nope. Wait... ... ... nope." GODDAMMIT, PLAY ALREADY YOU STUPID FUCKING HIPPIES!!!!

Finally Love Song starts playing, and they sound exactly like what an early 70s band who couldn't make it on pop radio sounds like. Dumb, simplistic, ear gratingly un-catchy songwriting about reaching to heaven for God's hand, and... and... oh sweet Jesus! (CHATTER, CHATTER, CHATTER!) I can't take it anymore!

I dashed to the car once again... maybe I overlooked some seat covers, or something I could use for warmth?? I flung open the trunk, and there, far in the back was a grocery bag. It was filled with Goodwill stuff I had promised to drop off for a friend. I ripped it open and out tumbled some dishware, a couple stuffed animals, CDs… but only two things that even barely resembled clothing: a 2 X 2 foot PINK baby blanket, and a black women's business jacket from Ann Taylor Loft. Size 6.

Grabbing those two paltry things, I went back to rejoin Love Song, and sat beside a fat guy wrapped in a woolen Pendleton blanket, in hopes of blocking the chilling wind screaming off the river. I don't remember much after that. My mind and body just went into survival mode. I kept thinking of that scene from "Into Thin Air" where the stranded frozen mountain hikers sent their final words via radio to loved ones. And sure, I got a lot of weird looks because I was wearing a too small jacket from Ann Taylor Loft with my legs barely covered by a pink baby blanket. BUT IT SHOULD BE NOTED NOT A SINGLE CHRISTIAN OFFERED TO HELP ME. Not very Christian of them, huh?

Finally, finally, FINALLY the concert was mercifully over at 9:45 and as the Pastor was asking ushers to pass around the plate, I was running full tilt for the car, muttering a bit too loudly, "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." And by the time I was in the car, I couldn't stop screaming, "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUUUCCKKKKK!!" The car's external thermometer told me that the outside temperature was 54 degrees (perhaps 50 with wind chill?). I had the heater running full blast for the entire 40 minute trip home.

Worst Night Ever? Maybe not. But it was in the top fifteen. However as the Christians like to say, "God never gives you anything you can't handle." Well. In that case, God, thank you sooooooooo much.

[Worst. Night. Ever. will return in the future! Stay tuned to Blogtown for details!]