What I Remembered Most From The Firefly Music Festival

June 26th 2015

Story originally written and experienced: June 17th-June 22nd 2015

No showers. Zero air conditioning. Damp sleeping bags.

And it finally felt like home.

Here’s the thing.

We were back.

We were all back.

These animals.

These cats.

 

To the Firefly Music Festival in Dover, Delaware, where we had raged and reunioned just one year before:

Flashin it back ya'll.

Flashin it back ya’ll.

 

An occasion where my batshit friends and I embarked on our first festival journey, trading in civility, comfort and hygiene

Katniss wouldn't understand.

Katniss wouldn’t understand.

 

For a diet of beef jerky, jelly and live music as a sole source of living.

For it.

Somehow still alive.

 

For 3 entire days.

And with the unreal results that ensued.

We decided to do it all over again.

But this time.

For 5.

What he said.

What he said.

 

Just to see the exact amount of madness we could meticulously make.

So.

As soon as June 17th, 2015 hit.

6 of us came from Ohio.

4 From Washington D.C.

And 3 from New York City.

To reunite on our old camping grounds at 2 AM on a Wednesday night.

And it was grand. Ideal. And fricken fun.

Except for the fact that…

It started to rain.

Torrentially.

Causing us to pitch tents in an outrageous downpour, all in the dark of the night.

tent building

And by us I mean not me.

 

Whilst sporadically seeking shelter under an under-sized canopy whenever we damn could.

The sky didn’t impart mercy until an hour or 2 later.

And by that time we had generally stopped giving a damn.

drunk girl gif

Accepting the fact we’d be bundled in damp sleeping bags.

And remedying the stress with the notion we’d all be (uncomfortably) braving it together.

I'd say we're pretty close.

Keeping shit cozy.

 

Moving on.

The next day and the 4 days after that were an incredible blur of everything you’d expect and most things you wouldn’t.

The typically terrific things including:

1. Bitches like us dancing on dudes’ shoulders and waving our hands like we truly “didn’t care”

…And then taking pictures so everyone would know about it:

We're so spontaneous and fun.

Look how free-spirited and chill we are.

 

Look how free-spirited we are.

Bet no one’s ever done this before.

 

So easy going.

God, we’re so easy going.

 

 

2. Crowd surfing at a crazy (Matt & Kim) concert—complete with a total body-drop ending:

Then Instagramming about it:

Bai.

Bai.

 

And then humble bragging about the “like” I got on it later on from actual the band itself…

No I did not mass text this screenshot or put it on my website.

No I did not mass text this screenshot or put it on my website.

 

3. Breaking it the fuck down to a bevy of the best bands

Walk The Moon:

Clean Bandit:

Young Rising Sons:

Hozier:

And a nightcap of a glow stick black out in the sky compliments of Zedd:

(wait for it…or fast forward to 27 seconds)

4. Seeing ridiculous signs that fellow festival-goers carried by choice such as:

“Broccoli” Obama:

unnamed (11)

Go green.

Larry David:

11243922_10152784997381685_6271638572237409574_n

A-head of his time.

Straight up instructions:

unnamed (15)

On it.

Rafiki:

unnamed (6)

Pissed Simba ran off again.

Morgan Freeman:

unnamed (19)

Found his doppelganger.

…And just like last year…Bob Saget:

unnamed (4)

The classic Bob Saget comeback.

 

 

5. Jiving in the silent disco to the Killers where no one had any idea they were incredibly off-key.

And it was a beautiful thing:

Convinced we sound amazing.

Convinced we sound amazing.

 

Lookin fresh.

Lookin anything but fresh.

 

 

6. Taking group photos with the obvious and provided signs 

NAILED IT.

NAILED IT.

 

NAILED IT.

NAILED IT.

 

NAILED IT.

NAILED IT.

 

This picture successfully ruined by Olive's awkward stance and I'm sorry.

This picture successfully ruined by Olive’s awkward stance and I’m sorry.

 

But when it was all said and done.

I realized that.

Even in a weekend of epic overload.

^
I didn’t remember any of that most.

But rather.

The smaller, less exciting things in between.

Basically.

I went to a musical utopia featuring some of the most coveted artists on earth…but all I talked about when I got back were the amount of times we got bystanders on our sceneless commute and campground to scream “Twist & Shout” on our impromptu cue:


How at one point we were all planning on pit stopping at the porta potties before another big show but then…heard some music blasting at a nearby tent…and made a

Hard left towards it

And suddenly found ourselves…

And then took it too far as always and rallied a dance circle and cha cha line sort of like:

And a full half hour later departed from the dance party, forwent the bathroom break and went straight for the taco stand exactly like:

I remember Al recruiting Drew to bring a pot from D.C so he could make Mac & Cheese over a portable burner he contributed.

…And it only took 40 minutes to cook considering the wind blew out the flame every 4.3 seconds.

Any decade now...

Any decade now…

 

And when we realized we didn’t have a strainer, Lark innovatively poked holes in a solo cup.

And just made one:

I remember witnessing my baby sister chug Gin and Doritos for breakfast…

It's the most important meal of the day.

The most important meal of the day.

 

Puking at the Paul McCartney concert because I decided to do this:

Call me.

Call me.

 

Passing a sketchy van with a man outside of it that was yelling “FREE DONUTS” and me saying to my friends, “Who would actually get those?” Only to have Bogden sprint up behind us moments later screaming, “GUYS I GOT DONUTS”

My hero.

My hero.

 

How people contributed some serious cash #$100 convincing Drew to mud dive at the Hozier concert.

And he did.

…Twice.

How lightening ensued during the Kid Cudi performance and he told everyone to head home for their safety.

So we sprinted back to camp. >>>

Sought shelter under the same canopy as night one, using a mosquito candle as our only source of light:

How Lark crafted a pretzel necklace as an on-the-go snack for the masses:

Complete with a straw hat.

Complete with a straw hat.

 

Only to be smashed immediately by the beautiful KB, after an encouraging and lofty serving of Parrot Bay:

RIP pretzel necklace.

RIP.

 

Running into an epic study abroad friend I hadn’t seen in 6 years:

What an epic way to reunite.

Fuck yes.

 

Running into our bomb ass neighbors we camped next to the year before:

Soul mates found.

Soul mates found.

 

Getting kicked out the wine tent for taking too many free samples:

Serving 88 give or take.

Serving 88 (give or take)

 

Miraculously finding each other in the crowd on the last day to watch the Killers all together (nearly) front row:

Killed it.

Better together.

 

And of course, witnessing a man in a banana costume walking away on the last night, duffle in hand, throwing up while saying, “Yeah I think I’m gonna go home.”

Classic.

Banana in soon to be pajamas.

 

And after everything was said, joked and danced I realized:

I don’t necessarily need extravagant trips to make a memory or appreciate a joke.

Similar ones could have been made on an ordinary day, doing ordinary things.

And on any occasion big or small

Damn good companionship amplify the good times, great moments and any mundane thing in between.

Whether it’s making Mac & Cheese or agreeing muddy tents and sneakers are no big deal at all.

And that sentiment.

(In combination with this picture…

How did this get back in here.

How did this get back in here.)

 

Are definitely worth remembering.

The biggest Firefly shoutout to another adventure with the people who make boredom or a bad day simply impossible: Silvia, Kelly, Al, Lark, Jared, Jordan, Bogden, Drew, Em C, Vince, Galen, SarahAnnie, Julie, Coreen and Dylan.