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Emmaprovement Continues... Glasto Day 1 · Day 2 · Day 3 · Day 4 The Wet Wipes are great, but by Saturday morning, I need a proper shower. And since they won't let me into the Trailer Park, we hike to the Greenpeace tent where we've heard there are showers. We line up for three hours, get undressed and right when we are about to get in, the water pressure goes. I didn't cry, but I really wanted to. |
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I'm in the worst mood, but everyone else seems to be so happy. They're all frolicking in the mud, dancing around, kissing each other. And then I clue in. Day drinking. And drugs. That's the ticket to enjoying Glastonbury. By 6pm, I've finally had a shower, had breakfast and found a paper. At home, that takes me 20 minutes. Here, it took all day. And I've got two more days of this. The photographers bring back stories of people falling in the mud, singers bringing people up on stage, great bands they've heard. They seem fine about not being dirty. Actually, they seem to be having a good time. What's wrong with me? I seem to be missing my "youth" chip. So I muck in, put on a dress and actually try to enjoy myself. We go to the Lost Vagueness Casino, win 40 pounds at the Roulette table, and after three vodka tonics, I actually start having a good time. I even dance. I think I'm catching the Glastonbury Festival spirit. One of the photographer's mentions he has to go to the Lost Vagueness VIP Trailer Park and I convince him to blag my way in as well. It's sweet, I can't lie. And pretty empty, with proper sofas in the bar. We get some drinks in and settle in. Everyone seems very clean, and calm. I see the appeal of dropping that kind of dough to avoid the teeming masses. But then, isn't that the point of going to a festival - being with the people? Everyone does seem a little bored in here, but that might just be what they're on. Then, the Scissor Sisters emerge from a Airstream van and the bar erupts in joy, everyone dancing with each other. I make friends with Damon, a six foot four queen from Oregon dressed up in a Kiss outfit. The thought of leaving the VIP compound is dreadful; maybe he'll let me sleep over. Instead, I stumble back to our camper and fall asleep in my dress. The next morning, I really regret my decision to have festival fun. Glastonbury plus hangover is hell. |
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