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theuniverseofgail-blog · 7 years ago

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Okeechobee

This entry will not do my experience at Okeechobee justice. Not only because I am waiting over 4 months to finally try and recount my time there, but because words are at a disadvantage when it comes to taking raw feelings and identifying them. Here is my attempt:

My invite was as last-minute as it gets. This festival had been planned since Christmas for my boyfriend, Sam, and his brother, Jacob. Maddie, Jacob’s (now ex) girlfriend would accompany the two and arrange for everyone to link up with this group of mutually acquainted festival-goers. Unfortunately for Jacob, his asshole professor refused to work with him and his chemistry test on the intended day of departure, leaving his ticket up for grabs. For some bizarre reason I was on the fence about taking his spot. Whether it was out of guilt or fear, who knows. I am just relieved I grew a pair and looked past my irrational skepticism.

The drive was 11 hours and actually passed fairly quickly. Dab breaks definitely played a factor there. When we finally got there, there was no time to feel out the place, we immediately unpacked what would become our little home for the following days. Tent and all, we set up and decorated a personal campground for our hippie gang. I loved living that way. There is something so satisfying about simplfying living conditions down to the bare necessity. Cutting out the luxuries we use and overlook on a daily basis -television, air conditioning, refrigerators, microwaves, bathrooms, chargers- and instead relying solely on nature. Setting up our campground in a way set up the experience. We mingled and made friends easily, that component is key. I grew ridiculously close to the people inhabiting our grounds in a ridiculously short period of time. But that's just the (amazing) thing, it’s impossible to walk out of a festival without friends. It feels like everyone there is on the same peace and love-endorsing wavelength. It is something else. You don’t know anyone’s story, but you know that everyone there sacrificed the time and money for the sake of music. You’re all there for the experience and for improving it, which creates immediate fellowship. There’s an unspoken understanding that the only thing appropriate for radiation is positivity. It’s almost like the festival rewired the brain chemistry of the occupants strictly to favorable thought patterns, like even our vocabularies underwent an unusual excess of encouraging words. It quickly became evident, that regardless of where you were, if you ran into people, they were undoubtedly enjoying themselves.

Once we were all moved in, Sam and I channelled our excitement into pregaming. We didn’t waste any time getting beer drunk for the upcoming performers. That night turned into a necessary wakeup call in regard to my bodily limits. It turns out, I can’t stomach like 10 beers in like 2 hours. The fun ended in a puddle of my piss. I decided to lay down in the tent before recuperating... that escalated. I sincerely thought I was on the brink of death that night/morning. I peed my pants, the sleeping bag, the blankets, hell the whole tent, in addition to throwing up pretty much any vital body part in my stomach. I was mortified with myself and feared judgement from my renowned and respected hippy gang. Of course hardly anyone noticed, nor mentioned it. At this point, I acknowledged my size and decided to let it dictate my choices in regard to all of the illegal unmentionables, aka drugs and alcohol.

This first night nightmare actually shaped me up nicely. I managed my Molly and acid intake responsibly, which is where it counts. It was my first time taking Molly and looking back I really wouldn't have done it differently. I knew it had kicked in when my body was possessed by this unshakable urge to move. Which is exactly what I did. Sam and I literally danced our asses off for who knows how long. It was amazing though. Every nerve in my body wanted to express how good the music made it feel, so it did just that. It’s like your body enters “Molly mode,” complete with an endless tank of dance moves, energy, and happiness. Heat and exhaustion will, however, challenge the “endless” aspect of this tank, let me warn you. The acid, on the other hand, rocked my world, in the best way ever possible.

I’ve messed around with psychedelics a good bit so I knew what I was getting into. Sam, however, was an acid virgin. It was the last day and acid was brought up and some things lead to another and we decided to trip together. I was reluctant because, well acid is acid, and you can’t predict how your mind responds to psychedelics. A festival is a prime acid environment if you are familiar with tripping, but to a newbie it could be way too overwhelming. Sam handled everything perfectly though, to my pleasant surprise. Which is the only contender when it comes to choosing words to adequately describe that experience... perfect. Despite belonging to a bigger group, Sam and I generally ventured off on our own. It was nothing against our company, but really just a way to ensure we could see my favorite artists -his too, I just had three times as many. This isolation bonded us on its own -the simple concept of two people, in a crowd of thousands, desiring nothing but one another’s company. As long as he was with me, I felt comfortable and safe, oh and then there was the uncontrollable happiness. Hand in hand, it felt like it was us against the world, in a world that wasn't even out for us, more like a world that worshipped us. Not that the world worshipped us, as in a materialistic manner, but that it worshiped us together, the unification of us. Everything, every little thing, felt so insanely right. There was this palm tree forest of hammocks tucked behind the walkway, and we laid there for forever. I was just so intently content. Our playlist was whatever the next unthinkably talented band or artist wanted to perform for us. All of it, regardless of the genre, was extraordinary. (Excluding like this 45 second clip of a trumpet in dire need of tuning. It resembled the noise a cat makes when you strangle it following a vocal-cord removal procedure.) But as I was suspended in that Eno with Sam, I had this recognition, a magical one. This feeling, a feeling that nothing in the world could pollute, no outside force could alter, was love! I was in love with this boy. I thought that perhaps the acid was making the sun’s warmth feel affectionate, and turning the air sweet, and giving the palm leaves personality, and revealing to me all of these unidentified colors... but I was wrong. It was love! Processing that discovery was glorious. I looked at Sam and was completely overcome by affection for him. Acknowledging my love for him either instilled or made light of a new, unwavering faith in us. Accepting my love for him was like taking a blurry pic of all of the wonders of the world and watching it focus into a clear, sharp, edge-cutting masterpiece. It was the epitome of bliss. I’ll carry a photographic print of the ways his eyes looked around at the world and perceived it through his own personalized lenses forever. They would water because he would forget to blink because he saw earth for the astonishing exhibit it is. He is so incredible in the most subtle ways. Throughout the entirety of the trip, I became more and more drawn to him. I was so oblivious to the effects he had on me until I was forced to face them, all of them. As it got darker, I found my body longing for his. I lusted him unlike any time before and couldn't quiet the thoughts and desires without him physically putting them to peace. And as you can guess, that’s how the perfect night following the perfect day following the perfect trip ended. Some good, old-fashioned tent sex. But really, that was my favorite sex, to this day. Every sensation was heightened, it felt euphoric.

And that’s how it went. That’s why it was so good. Two kids, completely and irrevocably in love, at a music festival. But don't get me wrong, it wasn’t the experiences themselves -not even the private concerts from bucket-list musicians- but the ability to share those experiences with the love of my life. He wasn't just there for some of the best memories of my life, he helped create them.

So that’s a recap!

There are my favorite days of my life succumbed into some paragraphs.

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