Last Wednesday, during my first day of class, I signed up at some booth to see if could win some free tickets for a huuuge electronic music festival. The following Wednesday I received an email informing me that my name had been drawn and that I had won tickets for Sunday. The festival is pretty much a morbidly twisted, quite baked disneyland. It's a freak show, yet it's beautiful, yeah, it's some kind of romanticized freak show, well, it's a freak show to the outside folks who aren't into electronica, to me they're not really freaks, they're just badasses.
So as things turned out, I ended up deciding to go home for the long weekend, and therefore ditched the festival. It's an hour-drives away, anyway, and I had no idea how to get there.
I decided to ride a greyhound home, there was just no way I was going to pay 114+ dollars for a flight, when I could ride a bus for 40 bucks. Well, my point today is that, the real world is more fucked up, than a deliberately fucked up festival. Like seriously, as soon as I got near the greyhound station, I thought I was going to get mugged, and that I'd have to walk back to the university, if I was left alive.
There were some pathetic looking gangsters or whatever, you know, them fat bastards who dress in massive clothes and wear tons of jewelry, in a futile attempt of drawing attention away from their obvious plus sized physique. Although I'm starting to believe its just an escapist practice since their attempts at being recognized as big pimps are rather futile, and always frustrated by their lack of 1) capital, and 2) physical abilities, such as that of running, and/or fucking. But whatever, respect them because some can cut you up.
There was some fat sista', pertaining to a racial minority, and she was like wearing this huuuge hair extension. She must have erroneously believed she was a Christmas present, that her hair was the ribbon bow, and that her sagging skin and fading tattoos were beautiful gift wrap, she ended up leaving the station, I guessed she was just looking for cigarettes.
Once I was on the bus I was surrounded by a menagerie of odd personages. There was some guy who's head looked like it had been waxed in random spots, tattoos on every other person, large people taking up more than one seat (-_-) and this lady with a dog (That bitch should've stayed home, seriously.)
SO, after all the random kids stopped crying, because their family had been split up, and they weren't sitting with their parents,(It felt like some shitty non-lethal version of Jame's Cameron's Titanic scene, where people are struggling to get to the lifeboats) and after the dog lady, and some fat people left to another bus (thank God) we departed.
As soon as we arrive to the San Antonio bus station about an hour later, and the lights turn on, I find myself startled by some senile man at the back of the bus who's shouting "WHERE IN THE HELL ARE WE?! WHERE THE HELL IS AUSTIN?!". At this point my mind was just blown away. Seriously, WHAT. THE. FUCK. How the hell does someone manage to sleep through an entire boarding transfer filled with people crying about not getting seats, and kids freaking out because they're sitting next to pedobear, etc, etc?!
Anyway, I guess I didn't miss out much after all by not attending the Nocturnal Festival. I got my very own freak show, courtesy of greyhound, and experienced all of the different scents which are the perfume of such events: Sweat, smoke, gas, tears, and strange substances, including mentholated topical creams. I mean, all I was missing in the bus was the music, you know, some ATB, FUKKK OFF, Armin, or Gartner, not a lot, really.
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