I awoke Saturday morning to the sound of Jets Overhead. It wasn't as bad as The Long Winters I was accustomed to, but it was cold, so I had to put on My Morning Jacket. One of my neighbors, who introduced himself as Patrick Watson, must have had Telekinesis, because he offered me a cup of Fresh Espresso. He played A-Trak for me by Kid Cudi, which was Dam-Funky. The volume was so low, you couldn't hear the tUnE-YarDs away, since his girlfriend was still asleep, so it was more of a Low Anthem.
Patrick had tried to Ween his girlfriend off of the booze late last night, but I guess She & Him were not on the same page, as she was still passed out. Not even the loud noise of the Drive-By Truckers woke her. Well, I shouldn't call them truckers, more like trucks driving around emptying the honey buckets, operated by a company called Mumford & Sons. The flies surrounding the deposit zone were like fruit flies on fruit, so we nicknamed these large bugs "Fruit Bats."
Fast forward an hour, I am boarding the Shabazz Palace on the river with a couple I met the night before, who told me their names were Tegan & Sarah. The river was perfect, Nada Surf, like if you threw a rock Midlake, you could see the ripples. This YACHT was gigantic, and their LCD Soundsystem was bumping. People were hopping up and down and waiving their arms wildly like chimpanzees. It was like a Simian Mobile Disco.
There were a lot of Posies and children on the deck, so I knew there was No Age limit here, but it created a Broken Social Scene for me, so I decided to check out the cabin, which was much different. The Girls there were dressed in skimpy nurse outfits, the men all had mustaches and robes, and the place wreaked of Vetiver oil. There was a large sign on a side door that read "Passion Pit", with a bright Neon Indian hanging below it. I had a deep conversation with one of the Nurses, and she swore we knew each other in Past Lives. I could tell this was a hardcore crowd, and I was nervous since I always preferred The xx. I was one of the only New Pornographers there. Sorry to skip the details, but I'm going to use my Morning Teleportation device to land me back at the campground two hours later.
It was hot by then, and although I wanted to Booka Shaded camp site, there were no trees anywhere. I was looking to meet more new people, and curious about the sport of Beersby, so I wandered to the Boys Noize campground (who blared Vampire Weekend for hours the previous night, but were now playing the Japandroids), to challenge the winner. I ended up playing against a dude from Portugal. The Man was huge, even if he wasn't The Tallest Man on Earth. His partner was his Brother Ali, who apparently was The National Beersby champion of some country in The Middle East.
My partner introduced himself as Hudson Mohawke. He did have a sweet Mohawk, and was wearing a cool Cymbals Eat Guitars tee shirt. The large man from Portugal threw the frisbee my way, and said, "Ok Go." To keep the mood light, I replied, "Yes Giantess," which was obviously a Temper Trap to throw him off his game, but may have caused me to become his Public Enemy, because he didn't think it was funny. I had to Hold Steady on three points, because I'm terrible at the game, and pounded four PBRs because of their dominate victory.
As I stumbled back to my tent, I began conversing with a couple, Edward Sharpe and Laura Marlings. Having experienced being introduced with fake names already, I told them I was Miike Snow. Edward works for a major corporation making short wildlife films, and has always been an avid photographer, but now he likes to Freelance Whales, or is it Wale? I'm terrible at spelling. He had some cool pics, one of Jaguars getting it on, which he called Jaguar Love. My favorite was a picture of the sunset in some city in Utah. The lights of the City and Colour of the mountains was breathtaking.
He had a killer video which was a bit hard to see, because it was shot on a Camera Obscura, and replayed on Dirty Projectors, but it shows Edward wandering through a Lonely Forest, and filming one of The Local Natives getting run over by a Band of Horses. The man tried to get up, but was immediately trampled by an Avi Buffalo. He was then assaulted by a Caribou, and later head butted by two Mountain Goats. I didn't even think these animals were violent? The coup de grace occurred when an obviously irritated bear mauled him. It was a Massive Attack, even Minus the Bear.
After the festival that night, I got lost on the way back to the campground, but I received a strange message from a ghost, a Phantogram if you will, saying I was going the wrong way. Actually, maybe it was a sign from MGMT stating, "Trespassers will be prosecuted" signed by Mayer Hawthorne. I turned around, and promptly tripped over the edge of the Pavement, and almost landed on a Deadmau5, or maybe it was a dead cat, I'm not too sure.
I eventually made it back to the campground, where a drunkard yelled at me, "Hey Dr. Dog, are you a cop?" I said no, then asked, "Why?" He slurred back, "Sweet mustache dude." Then it dawned on me, no wonder everyone kept giving me fake names, they think I'm a cop. On the bright side, my Quasi mustache turned out to be Fool's Gold for the swingers, who must have thought I was a porn star.
What a craZ-Trip, meeting so many cool people at the campground, and I still have two days left. While passing out in my tent, I kept thinking that today has to be one of The Very Best days of my life.