Well, festivals are a lot of fun aren’t they? Who the hell thought it would be a good idea to take me to a shit-spattered field for a whole weekend. It was supposed to be a nice getaway to help me forget about my argument with Chris. Cheers mates for that one. The whole ordeal was an absolute nightmare from the start, right from when we got on to the coach. The girls ditched me almost instantly, and went and sat with a group of a group of hippy lads, probably in hope of some free lovin'. I'm fine for free lovin' thanks, I've got a highly trained Alsation that takes care of all that kind of stuff.
So I was left sitting by myself. I didn't care though, those dreadlocks smelled like absolute arse anyway. They probably just discussed which incest sticks they preffered to shag themselves with. I tried to resolve the situation with cider, lots and lots of cheap, yellow cider. To be honest, I'm not a great traveller, and I knew that alcohol probably wasn't a good idea, but I wanted to show them that I could have just as good of a time by myself- which I can. Everything was all fine as I read my cheapo women's magazine, revelling in the stories of babies with two heads and women that have had ten kids by eight different fathers- the kind of stories that makes you think 'how.'
I began to feel a bit sicky after we'd just gotten on to the motorway, about half an hour into our four hour drive. My mouth began to fill with slobber and my stomach was churning, but I kept sipping the cans though, focussing my breathing on swallowing down the fizzy sweetness. Despite these efforts, it was when my mind flitted to the thought of shitting in a hole filled with spunked-in johnnies and other articles of joy, for two days that made vomit ensue.
I didn’t want to make a fuss about the situation, or attract any attention from my sell-out mates or their blokes. I was having a good time, and they would believe it whether it was true or not. In order, to save face, but not really because it went exactly all over my face, I borked into my cupped hands, and then after I could just discreetly deposit it into the on-board toilet. I scrambled out of my seat, heading towards the back of the coach where the loos are normally located. I remember going on a coach day trip to Scotland with mum, just after she'd gotten divorced from dad. She said it would be nice to have some family time, she said it would be “lovely”. But it wasn't very lovely when I was on the toilet and the bus turned a corner, causing me to topple off the seat and wee over my own legs. It is also not very lovely having to walk around those bloody freezing hills all day with your own urine in your shoes.
When I reached the toilet, I was horrified. A little sign, with writing in capital letters read: 'OUT OF ORDER. DO NOT USE'. Fuck you sign. What the hell was I supposed to do with a rather large, and overflowing pair of hands full of sick? I decided to risk it and try and open the door, as long as I did it quietly and sneakily, I was sure that no one would catch me. The the door seemed to have been locked from the inside, or perhaps the driver had a key. There was no way I was going to ask him though, if I did, the girls would know that something was wrong, and I was definitely having a good time, remember, that and the fact that I'd have to admit to the driver I was currently using my hands as a human cup of of sick. I hung about outside the loo, trying to look casual, I would have tried the leaning on one arm thing that they do in films, but that would have risked an untimely disposal of vomit onto my feet. I heard someone behind me, out of view, sniffing the air and proclaiming they could smell sick. I knew I had to do something fast before I got caught, and the cramp in my hands at this point was really quite painful. I decided I had to somehow get the lock open, so I raised my cupped hands to the lock dial that read 'engaged', and carefully with my little finger, dragged the dial repeatedly until I finally heard the click of the lock- 'vacant'.
I did a little 'phew', and scurried into the cubicle, and splatted the contents of my hands into the toilet bowl. I was in there a few minutes cleaning myself up, I noticed I had a few spots on my forehead, and I couldn't really leave them unsqueezed, so I give them a little de-gunk. I was mid 'pop' and I heard the driver speak out over the tannoy system, he said: “Can the person, that has clearly ignored the sign, please get out of the toilet. Immediately”. There was no chance in hell that I was leaving that toilet. Everyone would know that I was a lonely loser that had thrown up, only half- an- hour into my first festival. My only thought was to hide there for nearly four hours until we arrived, and then I could sneak off with all of the other passengers, and no one would be any the wiser that it was me. I was there for a couple of minutes of longer until I felt the bus stop which was soon followed by the was a loud, repeated banging on the door, followed by an angry shout to “Get out. This coach is going nowhere until you go back to your seat”.
We remained parked at the side of the road for at least an hour. The smell of the sick in the tiny, hot cubicle was becoming unbearable, and I felt a second wave rising. I could hear someone fumbling with the lock outside, and I tried to hold the door closed with my foot as I retched, head still in the toilet bowl. It filled with light around me as the driver had managed to force the door open, I turned around to look at him. I could see a large mob of travellers had gathered behind him. They looked a bit pissed off. “Sorry”, I whimpered, feeling really quite pathetic by this point. “Sorry my arse, if you wanted to be sick” he said “then you should have let me know and we could have pulled over. Now get back to your seat, we're running late as it is!”
I toddled back to my seat, making my way through the group of people that were staring at me, I heard one of them mutter “Well done, dick head”, which I thought was a bit rude. So, I sat for the remainder of the journey by myself, I flipped back to the magazine to read about various freaks, that made me feel a bit better about myself at least. When we finally arrived, we filtered off the bus to wait for the driver to off load the luggage. The driver announced that there was a bit of a problem though, as he'd feared. The toilet that I had used was out of order because of a faulty waste tank, and the contents of it had leaked into the baggage compartment. I wanted to bloody die as he offloaded everyone's vomit covered tents and back packs, and the others were not best pleased to see that my bag was the only one which had come out absolutely spotless. I'd hoped there'd at least be a few chunks on it.
I rejoined my friends and we walked onto the campsite, and me and Slaggy Tits set up the tent we were sharing. I was feeling pretty miserable as Slaggy and the others still fussed around the boys, so I slipped inside the tent and snuggled down into my sleeping bag. A nice cup of tea would have made me feel better but I couldn't seem to find a plug socket anywhere, I'd have to remember to take one with me next time. I couldn't have been asleep for too long when I was woken up by a rustling in our tent. I hadn't opened my eyes but I could hear Slaggy whispering: “Sorry mate, his tent was taken so it had to be ours. Just go back to sleep we won't be long.” I had no idea who this “we”, that she was referring to was. I rolled over to find her straddling, mid-hump, on top of a bloke that looked like he was mainly comprised of hair. “There's not much room in here, is there?”, she said.
I left screaming things along the lines of “you're a filthy bitch” and “I hope you get herpes.” How could she shag away like that whilst I innocently slept? I stormed off to one of towards one of the music stages, and filtered in through the big crowd of people. I danced by myself for a bit, well more like out-of-time shuffling. There was a mixed group of girls and boys also dancing next to me, they looked liked they were having a great time, I felt pretty lonely and I just wanted to go home to my dog, plus I was still pegging for a good brew. One of the girls from the group caught my eye and gave me a smile, I smiled back. I bet she thought I was a complete loner, being there by myself. She walked over to me, and asked my to join there group. I said “That would be great, thanks”, and she introduced herself as Summer and told me the names of the others. I did and awkward wave to everyone and told them my name was Ruth. I felt like lying and coming up with an equally cool name as Summer, I toyed with Sunshine, or Starfish, but decided against it in the end.
We danced away for hours, and for the first time, I was beginning to think that festivals are actually pretty fun. One of the boys pulled out a small bag with white stuff in it and sneakily passed it round the group. Sunshine asked me if I'd like some powder, I told her that I didn't wear make-up any more, not since the time I'd turned up on the first day of school and a Year 9 boy had asked me if I was a drag queen. “No silly” she said, and rolled up a ten pound note and snorted a little bit of the bag's contents. “Like that kind of powder”. She handed me the note and the drugs, I felt a bit nervous, I'd never done anything like that before. I thought about how disappointed my parents would be, although they had been promising to buy me a car for well over a year, so stuff you mum and dad, you don't even know what disappointment is. I wondered if putting the queen's head up your nose and snorting illegal substances was against the law, like the same as killing a swan, or plotting against the crown, would what I was doing count as treason or something? Then I realised that the illegal drugs part of the situation was probably a lot more against the law than inserting money into your oraphaces. Summer seemed nice enough though, and I'm sure the queen wouldn’t be too bothered either, so I shoved the scabby note up my nose and snorted. I was a bit worried that she would see the watery residue that I'd left on the note, she didn’t seem to have noticed anyway. What I should have been more worried about was the fact that I'd never asked what this mysterious 'powder' stuff was, or what it would do to me.
I'd hoped it would be like you see on the TV with all those hippies dancing about with flowers and telling everyone that they loved everyone else. Although, I didn't want to cheat on Chris, this break was supposed to give us a bit of room so we could work things out, and anyway I hadn't taken my pill in ages because the dog ate the whole of the last pack. I hope it won't make him grow breasts, or ovaries or anything. As the drugs began to work, I started to feel a bit off. Not at all like those naked dancing people I'd seen in their summers of love type scenarios. I asked Summer what it was she had given me, but all's she said was “Don't worry about it, but remember whatever you see...it's not real.” I was a bit confused as to what she meant, and her words didn't stop me from fretting. So, I said my goodbyes, explaining that I was feeling a bit weird and needed a lie down. I headed back to the tent, I unzipped the door and was relieved to find that Slaggy and whoever she had pulled, had now left.
I was desperate for a wee, and was annoyed at myself for not going on my way back, but I knew I wouldn’t make it to the porta-loos, I could see them in the distance, they were right across the other side of our campsite. Popping my head outside of the tent, I searched around for a vessel to wee in; an empty pot noodle container on the floor near by caught my eye. Closing the tent back shut, I began to do my business, until I heard the zipper going, someone was trying to get in. I just couldnt stop though, everybody knows you cannot stop midflow, it's against the laws of human biology. A man that I didn't recognise poked his head inside. “Sorry love, I can see your busy”, he said, “Do you want to buy any pills?” I was caught in a dilemma, there was no way I could stop peeing, so I just stared at him as the pot beneath me slowly began to overflow. At least it wasn't on my side of the tent.
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