Why I Hate Music Festivals

In 2009 I made my first mistake by wasting my money buying a weekend camping and early bird ticket for my first major festival. The idea at the time when the tickets went on sale seemed amazing, camping with friends, my favourite bands live, drinking all day and generally having a good time for a whole four days!

In the run up to the festival a couple of weeks before we were going were probably when reality kicked in and my expectations began to slip. First off, I hate camping (I know, but to me camping reminds me of old people in trailer parks) and the idea that I would be sleeping on an uncomfortable floor in a tent haunted me. So then the debit card made an appearance as I wanted a bigger tent with more room, why? Because I wanted to take a blow up mattress. So then obviously I needed a comfy pillow otherwise what would be the point in the mattress, which then led onto some sort of forty layered Alaskan sleeping bag of some description. Next thing I had a shopping basket full of dry shampoo, baby wipes, toothpaste etc because obviously not washing in any way all weekend was just not an option. So anyway the list goes on before I end up rubbing the magnetic strip off of my debit card it has been used that many times buying all my ‘necessities’ which cost me a fortune.

Next on my list was transport there and back, mine or my friend’s parents were not stupid enough to want to take us and get trapped on the motorway for hours there and back in stationary traffic. So we decided let’s get some people together and hire a mini bus, thinking save money and we will all get there at the same time and leave at the same time coming home. But no, that would be too simple in my life so naturally a mini bus the size of a Fiat Punto turns up; bearing in mind I had my fancy new tent, sleeping bag, pillows and the rest of my house just for myself. Therefore, too much of my disagreement, my pillow (L), some of my clothes and other supplies had to stay at home, which left me mortified.

Next on arrival after about 8 hours of a sweaty bus with none of my belongings we arrived at the site, to which I then discovered the campsite we were staying in was about a 40 minute walk over the other side. I have my massive new tent and about 9 bags, including food and alcohol, which left me in a ‘get to the site or die trying’ frame of mind. 40 minutes felt like a lifetime before we finally arrived and put the tent up, and that is just the beginning because over the next four days:

I had all my ‘toiletries’ stolen so I couldn’t wash,

The roof of my tent caved in from rain because I was missing about 3 poles,

My 40 layered sleeping bag absorbed all of this rain like a friggin sponge,

My clothes were absolutely covered in mud,

I was in such a bad mood that I couldn’t get drunk no matter what I downed,

My cigarettes got wet on the second night after the door of my tent was left open,

I ended up peeing in bushes because the ‘toilets’ were miles away,

While watching the prodigy, I was covered in piss,

And the list of my horrendous weekend continues. Not only did I do this the first time, but I thoroughly deserved it all again when I decided two years later to go to another festival.

However, I have nothing against people’s choices and if that is what they call a good weekend then so be it. I fell for it once, shame on me. Fell for it twice, shame on me again.

I think the overall weekend cost me about £900-£1000 in total including tickets and supplies when this could have paid for me to go on actual holiday to a nice country, with showers and clean clothes away from piss throwing knob heads (unless you go to Zante………….. won’t be falling for that again).

Obviously this was all from my own personal experience and would never suggest this was the case for everyone. I believe a festival is one of those events you have to try at least once in your life.

Thanks for reading and hope you have a magical day,

Hooves