Los Angeles, CA — With Summer in full swing, friends like Brett Swan, Kade Price and Matt King are always on the lookout for the next adventure. So when they discovered a music festival campsite downtown, they couldn’t wait to join the party. “We must be really early!” says Brett, noting the lack of stages.
Brett, Kade and Matt are on vacation with their fraternity here, all the way from Maryland. No strangers to a good party, they consider themselves veterans of the music festival scene. “We’ve hit Bonnaroo, Coachella, Lost Lands, FYF, Okeechobee…” says Brett, who continues to list festivals they’ve attended for the next two minutes.
While they hold their spot on the sidewalk, several of their fraternity brothers from UMD are out shopping for tents, alcohol, cannabis, food, water, Hawaiian shirts, and condoms. “… Electric Daisy, Electric Forest, Electric Daisyforest, Honda Days — You name it, we’ve raved it,” Brett finishes. But they had no idea there was a fest in LA this weekend, so they’ve spent the last few hours scrambling to find tickets. Kade’s eyes are locked on his iPhone as he scours the internet for 4-day passes.
Unfortunately, the other festival-goers haven’t been much help. “I tried asking our homie with the shopping cart over there, like, ‘Hey bro, where’d you get your pass?’ but I couldn’t understand a word he said. Dude is already trashed,” Matt says of their bearded neighbor. “Damn, we should ask if he has any Molly.”
As the day wears on, talk of dream artist lineups and “bitches” gives way to doubt. “What if we missed it?” A good question. The trash littered about, the dirtiness of the other campers, the vague smell of urine that kicks up with every breeze — all marks of a wrapped-up fest. But the brothers remain optimistic. In fact, they don’t seem worried at all.
And that’s when it becomes clear: it’s not about the music, or the bitches. It’s something more.
“If we stick around and there is a bomb-ass festival, we’ll be front row,” Brett says. And if they missed it? No problem. “We’ll have our own little party, right here.” He casually pulls out a pill bottle and starts to pass it around.
“At the end of the day, all you really need is Xannies.”
At press time, Brett was nursing a minor stab wound, yelling about how “that definitely wasn’t Skrillex.”