The sweat was literally running down into my arse crack.
It was eleventy billion degrees (okay, it was at least 38) and I was pressed up against what appeared to be a sweaty, bearded zygote. This was the moment that I realised I was too old for music festivals.
To be fair, my previous job revolved around musicians and attending these kind of festivals in laneways but really, it wasn’t mandatory. It was something, up until not so long ago, I genuinely enjoyed and willingly signed up for. See, I’ve been a festival goer, a live concert connoisseur you could say, since I could legally gain access.
Suddenly and without warning however, it was as if the culmination of the heat, a full bladder, a seemingly never ending line to the dirty portaloo, a dull headache from the shitty canned beer and the sight of so many fucking ironic hipsters, tipped me over the edge. I just wanted to be home already. On my couch and binge watching TV. Yes, that’s right, I’d turned into this guy:
In that moment, there seemed to be far too many reasons I was simply, too old for this shit
1. THE COST
Okay, let’s assume you’re attending one of those 2-4 day kind of festivals that has the words ‘dayz’ or ‘roots’ in the title.
You’ve already dropped the budget of a small African nation JUST to walk in the gate. Then let’s discuss the camping tariff and the added amount you have to factor in to consume alcohol. Add it all up and I swear to you it’d be almost cheaper to buy the albums of every one of the bands playing and listen to them as you fly away on a European escape. $10 beers people. Ten dollars! Which you can’t even get pissed on because they get hot before you’ve even had your 3rd sip. I am too old to be able to justify dropping this kind of coinage on what is often just a mediocre experience.