a n i m a t i o n . w o r d s & p i c t u r e s . f o r u m
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The Guide To Punk Rock CampingPosted by: JoshAn alternate title to this could be "101 Things to do with Canned Beans" or "I hate Nature, but nothing says love like Colt 45"  Matt, James and some chap with a mowhawk that none of us knew or liked, let's call him Matlock, showed up at my house one fine Friday evening and told me they were taking me to "Punk Fest" a much balleyhooed 3 day "Punk, beer and Anarchy" concert held on some mid-60's Punker named Spider's 61 acres of land. I had a mere handful of change to my name, to their trunkful of beer, vodka, marijuana, FAR too many hot dogs, fireworks, and a grocery bag full of canned beans. Paper, not plastic. The beans wil play an integral part in our weekend, as will the vaseline James brought(ZING), but that will come later, first the steps leading up to the bean encounter. - We arrive, it is already dark, do NOT pay to get in, and wander out into the forest in search of the "party". - We set up camp in the middle of all the other(maybe 7 or 8) tents, and begin drinking after the fire is going. (as a side note, I feel I should say that I dislike camping, I dislike most of nature, and I dislike sleeping in a tent with a man who brought a tube of vaseline(ZING!!!) - Matlock, whom I'd heard was a drug dealer, had never eaten mushrooms in his life. He buys some and wanders off. - Matt stays at our fire while James and myself wander around sharing in peoples "pcp-laced(supposedly) marijauna and alcohol. I have no money, so mooching is my game.  - I lose track of time, and am tagged "the quiet guy" because Im not as drunk, laughing and talky as all the "punks" that are there(various assortments, from kids wearing gap khakis, a raver who was talked into coming from some hitchhikers he brought, dirty, mohawked punks, and us, probably somewhere inbetween). - Matlock ends up not sleeping, Matt passes out with his feet hanging out of his open tents door, and me and James pass out in his tent after eating some hot dogs. I hate sleeping in tents on the cold, hard ground, and I hate hot dogs. Running Total:   
- Me and James wake up, after a measely 4 or 5 hours sleep. Matlock is still awake, climbing trees and rolling in the dirt with the raver that nobody knows, who also hasnt slept after taking pcp for the first time (weird, no?) - Through boredom, James begins drinking, sharing some with me, and we begin throwing small objects into Matts still-open tent, to wake him up. At this point I begin bitching about nature. - So far . . .no music - Matt gets up, a lot of people who really suck, who shouldnt be at "punk fest" being hanging around our tent, eating our hot dogs and using our fire, and smoking my cigrattes. - "Beer run" into town, to gather more booze find a bathroom, and get me some cigarettes. James is very drunk by mid-afternoon. Im slightly buzzed on vodka and coke. - The raver gets naked and dances around to everyones delight. He will end up letting the punks drive his car down very uneven and rocky dirt paths, with people in the trunk, surfing on the roof, and sitting anywhere that there is room. I wish I had a camera there. This goes on until the radiator over-heats, the muffler falls off, and it stops running altogether. In pieces, the punks attempt to tip over the car, but are halted by a sympthetic, but more importanly a SOBER, man.  - still no music. I comment on how this is not, in any way, like a concert, just a trailer park full of people with mohawks and labret rings, who drink Colt 45 instead of Molson Canadian. Someone tells me to shut up. - James passes out...wakes up with his feet tied together, throws up outside the tent, and psses out. - Two bands, yes, TWO BANDS play. Two shitty bands, not worth the mosquito bites I got to watch them. - James wakes up, and we all start drinking again. - Matlock finally passes out in Matt's backseat. - The raver sobers up and starts crying over the car his parents bought him getting wrecked the first time he tries PCP. I don't feel sorry for him, not one bit: he tried to tell a girl that she had to sleep with him because he gave her a ride to punk fest, but more importantly he ate a bunch of our hot dogs. He deserved it, stupid, rich ravers. There's an anti-drug commercial in this somewhere, I'm sure of it. Running Total:
- Then, the real fun begins. The beans. This may or may not be common knowledge or common sense, but when you place a can of beans, or a can of anything, into a fire, it will explode. This is the reason the beans were brought, and the only entertainment, besides the naked raver who ate my hot dogs, that I got from the weekend.     - That's really all you need to see. That's how it goes down folks. A literal mushroom cloud of flaming beans. After the first bean bomb, people assumed fireworks were going off. But a can of beans has that dull thud of an explosion, that dull explosion of beans, unlike anything else really. Some girl yelled "OWWW! MY EYE!!" after the second one went off, "What the hell was that? AHH! MY TENT'S ON FIRE!!" We set many a tent on fire, burned a couple sleeping bags, apparently beaned some lady in the eye: all in a days work folks. - My whining of boredom and Nature comes to a head: honestly, sititng in a lawn chair staring at a fire for an entire weekend is NOT FUN. We don't hoenstly think any more bands will play. I've eaten nothing but hot dogs for 2 days, and drank nothing but Colt 45 and Vodka, and Matlock is getting on eveyone's nerves. We pack up, toss the last remaning cans of beans in our fire, and drive off. Final Total: I lost count. Do you know what it's like to eat so many hot dogs that you actually lose count? Deductions: I hate camping, I hate nature. |
