There is nothing more terrible than waking up knowing that you are leaving from the place where you are vacationing. As we all awoke, surprisingly all at the same time, breakfast was a top priority on everyone’s list; hangovers are a bitch. So we all walked over to veggie stand that was doing an amazing breakfast wrap. Unfortunately the line for this breakfast haven was longer than the DMV’s. So we prepped ourselves for a long wait and got ourselves a nice suntan in the mean time.
After a long wait and no real organization on behalf of the veggie tent, we finally got our amazing wraps and headed back for some relaxation. I was very keen on going to see the Dirty Dozen Brass Band play because there was going to be a Mardi Gras celebration, however, my traveling buddies were less enthusiastic about staying any longer. After four days of no showers, they all wanted to just get home and be clean.
I can’t say that I didn’t agree with them, but we were heading home that day regardless, the shows were over at 6pm and we were only an hour and half driving time from home. But my persuasion to see the most amount of the show prevailed and off we set for the festival grounds once again. Upon walking down there, the explosion of brass instruments started and the Mardi Gras party began. As we entered the venue grounds, there were men on stilts, dressed in Mardi Gras garb, people throwing beads every which way and a collective, semi hung-over, semi drunk dance off happening.
We did just a bit of tooling around and Danielle, one of the girls that I was with, was in dire need of something for her parents, a little trinket or something, so off we went. The stuff we had seen the previous days seemed to have lost its luster. That’s why you don’t get drunk and shop. How many times have you gone to a concert, sports games, or anything like that and gotten drunk, bought something and in the morning say, “why did I buy this?” So after a depressing tent shopping adventure (it would have been window shopping, but…) we decided that heading home was a really good idea.
As we got back to our campsite, with everything packed away and half of our neighbors gone or packing up, the feeling of the festival was gone. There was no more collective group working with each other to enjoy the music, but a bunch of smelly people worry about work on Monday morning. It’s a great example of how the Summer of Love died away; it's fun at first and everyone loves it, but sooner or later, reality catches you by the shorts ones and you're back. But the festival was a lot of fun and I can’t wait for next year’s one.