Last year we really pushed it with the festivals. The highlight, in the middle of summer, was Ozora Festival in Hungary. Arriving way early, spending a night at the prepark, then a camping day, the 24 hr preparty spread out over the weekend... and of course a week of festival. I had contracted norovirus after a few days, a unique experience while on Ps cyan. Giving hell to the festival potties every fifteen minutes, cheered on by the Swiss and German neighbors...
The stomach pain subsided just in time for the big night. My idol, hero, demigod Mentalecho would be playing a set, surrounded by the absolute cream of hitech djs. We woke up, made breakfast in the Cooking Grove, sipping coffee and preparing toast. Took a couple of swims, chilled with the girls we bumped into at the beach at every conceivable moment we went there... And I was pretty much done for. Shitting like a volcano for 24 hrs comes with a price. The rest of the day was spent chilling, hanging around, eating copious meals and smoking joints.
My wife set an alarm, we crashed in the van, had sex and fell asleep. Sweet sweet sleep. Smack in the middle of the night, or so it felt, my wife wakes me up. "Love, you must wake up. You really don't want to miss this". I felt like someone just landed a 747 on my head and just mumbled and hid under the blankets. "No, you must wake up, your sweet prince is turning knobs in a couple hours".
Made coffee, jet black coffee in the large mug. Squinted at the darkness. My wife was hooping with the Hyperion and a little crowd gathered. Ok. Ok. Bite through it. With the 747 still firmly lodged in my ear, we went to the festival grounds. At Ozora, there's a huge wooden restaurant overlooking the area where the Main is situated. All the furniture is made out of twisted branches and it's really beautiful. Dropped 225 ug acid from my personal stash. We sat on the highest floor while I pre-rolled joints. My wife ate a hash cookie. Nuky was obliterating the dancefloor and crazed hippies danced around the huge bonfire.
Ok. Ok. It has to be done. We walked past the huge bonfire (shielded by a fence and a cage) and I thought, what am I bringing to the fire this year? The acid poked in my brain with its rainbow tentacles and I realized: I bring the innocent phase of my kids' life. In a month they'll both be in junior highschool and things will never be the same. Their lives will start separating from mine, they will develop their grown identity and devour their child-state. Like the butterfly building itself out of the caterpillar. I sacrificed some ccs of potent Ps cyan extract and smiled. Damn I love the kids.
We settled on a place in the back of the crowd. My wife really needs space when she brings the Hyperion and I tend to run around and spin and flap my everything. Kindzadza started and we danced like maniacs. I had to shed some clothes to keep the body temp acceptable. Several people cheered on my wife and wanted to know everything about the hoop. Some girl with the exact same hoop danced with her, both with different maps of visuals on, it was pretty spectacular to see. One of my favorite Kindzadza songs started ('Achtung Kinder') and I started running through the crowds, screaming along with the lyrics (from Family Guy, for god's sake). Some other guy ran past me, screaming. He was making quick pirouettes, stomping the ground one-footed, before disappearing. Cool guy, I thought.
By the time Mentalecho finally started, we were both covered in sweat, dust and gore. Mentalecho is... if you don't know Mentalecho, do yourself a favor and listen to him. Mentalecho is awesome. I ran around in circles and encountered the other running guy several times. He grinned at me, grabbed my head and kissed my skull. On one of my passes my wife grabbed me, told me to go smoke a doob NOW. "You're going to have a heart attack, smoke some weed. Have you seen this other guy running around, he's as crazy as you are". So I smoked some weed and ran off, bumping into 'that other guy' straight away. We started running around together, arms wide like kids playing airplane.
225 mics was perfect for the night. Enough to really fire up the engine and make everything sparkle, not enough to turn into a human puddle and get lost on a sidequest. 'Hitech Blues' started and 'the other running guy' and I screamed at the top of our lungs: "Belial! Behemoth! Beelzebub! ... Asmodius!! Satanas!! Lucifer!!". Turned out it was his favorite too, and of course it turned out he was on acid, too. What a joy. He was with a friend, who just stood totally captivated by the Hyperion, and as I later heard he and my wife could really level on the experience of going to festivals with a rabid puppy. Kind people gave us water to drink and we just ran around like kids at a playground.
When Mentalecho's set ended, we fell into each other's arms and cackled like witches from some really bad B-movie. Then Virtuanoize started and everything exploded in dance again. After maybe 20 minutes I looked at my wife (pretty tired) and took her out of the crowd for a break. Smoked a doob in one go, checked my feet (loose flaps on the underside, oops). We drank a few cokes and went back. "Ahahaha, we thought we'd lost you guys" our new friends exclaimed. (It is virtually impossible to stay anonymous in a crowd once people know you're with the girl that throws a LED hoop in the air until it bounces off the tent).
Although I was initially pretty impressed by the state of my feet, I forgot about them within minutes. Dancing, jumping and running. The early daylight softened the weird patterns bouncing off the lights. Virtuanoize's set ended with an oft-repeated sample about a fallen angel. The fresh daylight gave everyone an aura of drug use and decay. Thousands of raving mad drug offenders dancing to demonic tunes, right in the middle of Victor Orban's Hungary. It gave me goosebumps. I lit a joint and KillaTK started.
So we danced, and we danced some more, and somewhere my wife gave me the look that said 'I'm done for'. Without saying a word, we left the crowd. She wanted to eat something and we scavenged the foodstalls. Advice to all trippers: don't go for a hot meal at 7 AM at Ozora Festival. It was disappointing, to say the least. So we went to the festival supermarket and bought Almas Retes (the local version of apfelstrรผdel). And bought some more. Eating like pigs.
When we arrived at the van, she told me I was not allowed in without taking a long shower, and fell asleep while finishing the sentence. I sat on a chair and smoked joints until the sun became unbearably hot. Thought of showering, didn't do it, stumbled in and to my great surprise fell asleep within minutes.
THE DAY AFTER
The next day (or, well, after a few hours' sleep) we ate breakfast, went for a few swims, chilled with The Inevitable Girls. The state of my feet was terrifying. I had barged barefoot through a lot of very unfriendly stuff, without noticing. While walking along one of the main roads, some guy jumped on me and spilled half his drink on my back, soaking my ass and balls. It was him! We started jabbering frantically at each other and within a few sentences, he says in Flemish: "But you guys are Dutch, we could've spoken Dutch all the time! Took me a lot of effort to speak English! This was the best night of my life!"
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