SASQUATCH BIG RIG vs REAL LIFE RIG

 

 

How does the Sasquatch Music Festival pull off a three day stand without the drama of conflict and violence? It is America, but no violence? How can that happen?

 

The rest of the world needs to know and maybe they can tamp down the problems in their neighborhood.

 

It starts with reading and learning. I like to call it education because I’m always on the lookout for a teachable moment. Not to teach others, but to pick up new ideas. It’s a writer thing.

 

The learning starts the day the festival packet arrives. A one page flyer starts with “Sasquatch 2018 Music Festival IMPORTANT FESTIVAL INFORMATION.”

 

Instead of small print on the reverse side, the paper is right up front with IMPORTANT FESTIVAL INFORMATION. It’s all readable and big.

 

The camping rules are even more important. If the music tanks, there’s still the camping experience to embrace. And it’s embraceable. The list of rules to embrace isn’t that long.

 

At the top of the list: Quiet time is strictly enforced from 2AM to 8AM.

 

This is key to a good night’s rest after a five hour drive, camp setup, and a steady stream of concerts on three stages at the same time that somehow keep the sound bleed to a minimum.

 

Sound bleed is what you don’t want from camping neighbors.

 

I knew I was in the right campground, Big Rig Gold, when the Bro Party across the street heard from their peers in a campsite of men and women.

 

“TURN IT DOWN AND GO TO BED,” yelled a strong man voice. It was 3AM and the yelling man probably thought ‘I sound just like my dad.’

 

The liquor pounding shoulder bumping ass smacking dudes having a great time across the street actually complied. They didn’t go to bed but did turn it down, both music and voices.

 

Instead of the normal,

 

“Yeah, F you. I’ll turn you the f down first. B!tch.”

“I’m not going any f-ing where, Mary, but you better put on your man-thong before you show up, not the marble bag your boyfriend bought you on Valentines.”

 

It never happened. I waited for it, but nothing. And I didn’t do the yelling to turn it down. I would have sounded like their dad. Not my role. I was a fly on the wall, or in this case on an air mattress in the back of a Toyota Highlander with the windows cracked.

 

#4 on the campsite list of rules: No firearms or weapons of any kind.

 

It is Sasquatch, not a war front line. Don’t bring guns to a music festival? We Americans have rights, but we also have good sense, at least good enough to leave the guns at home. Who remembers this song:

 

Don’t take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don’t take your guns to town

 

From Johnny to U2

 

For three days I didn’t hear a siren, a gun shot, or even a bad acid meltdown. The closest I heard to a problem was a young male voice doing the strained calf bawling/scream of losing something in the night. Maybe car keys? Who hasn’t been there? His friends voices helped calm things down.

 

I’m calling it a Woodstock, a Glastonbury, a tradition of tolerance. The best part? Sasquatch showed evidence of our better natures, an embracing nature.

 

Giving it a 92. Good beat, easy to dance to.