Outside Lands Retrospective
An outsider looking in…
Cuntext
A year ago circa 2022, I was making decent money in San Francisco. I had gone to Outside Lands the year prior in 2021: it would be a music festival with some of my favorite artists. After a brief stint in the psychiatric ward in October that year, I was excited to be there.
I first heard about music festivals from my freshman year dorm roommates, after they had returned from Rolling Loud. Of course, as the odd one out, I wasn’t really made aware of the festivities beforehand… but I figured that as a studious engineering student, and at most occasional stoner, a place with
“rolling”-
trippin’ of of ecstasy ;
Young was rolling hard at the rave…Courtesy of user el rey on Urban Dictionary, posted 2003.
in its name wasn’t really my scene anyway. They had talked to me about eating edibles, dancing, listening to music, navigating crowds- I couldn’t fully see the appeal.
2023
Fast forward three years, I figured I may as well would go my first one. I slept through a full day of my scheduled and paid for enjoyment, I skipped the bus one evening and got a $200 ride home just before my phone died hours after the festival ended. I spent too much money on food. I made mistakes. In the time I managed to spend there, between the fantastic live music, I fit into a crowd of eclectic people pretty unbothered by my existence.
I was early in my transition, about 7 months since realizing I was some type of nonbinary. It was on Halloween weekend too, so my daily dress nearly fit right into the rave crowd with some additional edgy ghoulish eye shadow. I found room to dance and express myself, see the diversity of us in the crowd, and have artists’ basses boom and croons surround all at the same time. Trees with outstretched hands swathed multicolored by lights inundated my periphery perpetually closing in the wonderland. Karl(fog) jut through the tree’s branches and vignette the lightly blue sun, our musical idols’ images projected hundreds of feet high, I saw the appeal.
But enough about that, there is too much happiness there considering my circumstances at that time. I was to jump from full time school to full time work, a first for me on my own. Anyhow, misery preceded and followed this period of change, marked by a memorable and positive experience.
Having acquired much more stability since then, I was allowed to enjoy the festivities with a more clear headed view of the festival. I used its coming joy as an end by which I would continue to function at school and work. There were less mistakes, and a regimented schedule which included me resting. I had a friend join me for their first time on the first day, the lows were higher and the highs lower.
Yet this time, I was much more affected by my pro-socializing, moved by the presence and performances of some acts, and left the weekend with grocery money despite the rampant price gouging that has been plaguing markets.
The Toilet Incident
Along walking paths were lines of occupied porta potty stalls, queues across the wide berth of booty closets full of every human fluid. This other femme and I were in a line just by ourselves when a stall opened and she sprinted in while I continued to wait. She was the first to leave in my line’s set of options, and I went in after her. I hardly processed what had happened, she had mentioned to me on her way out that “someone really made a mess in there, not me.”
I was not even certain what she had meant until I stepped back outside, the light shone on her ungodly green bile on the floor, and I let the person who was about to go in know
“there is yak in there.”
She says, “oh gross, thanks.” I was at that moment convinced that this previous girl had lied to me, especially with how she ran in hurriedly and left in such a blushed escape.
Truly, I am a lover and connoisseur of the arts, for I have seen the inside of hell and returned dutifully back as witness to its unambiguously human horror.
Consumption
At first, inconspicuous, security checks appeared thorough enough to detect weapons of most kinds. People filed into lines at the designated bathroom zones, leaving stalls wide eyed with no need to flush. They will be back in anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and leave just as quickly.
The evening on the first day, groups hid each other’s sniffing in the crowd by circling around one another, which quickly became obvious when they turned around to congratulate and offer me overwhelming thanks for a picture I just took of them. They spoke in slow motion with ear-to-ear grins.
Zombies and fiends on the second day, rid of the riffraff that didn’t know how to keep the party going. Sirens rang through the exiting crowds as the day ended. I am close to surrendering now, but devised a reason to fully enrich myself with my scheduled time for fun: find a way to get into the media tent. I failed twice Saturday, lacking a great ability to lie or charm the covey of staff.
The third day, police armed with assault rifles openly carried on festival grounds as people entered. I fail once more for the tent, halfheartedly watch the amazing display of final acts, and exit as it echoes the decline of my revelry. For three days I drowned in gratuitous consumption inside and around me in all directions.
Final Rating
I would do it again, and you if you should get the chance to, definitely attend if you love live music.
