Drink water and check your pegs!
We’re coming towards that magical time of year, when the air smells faintly like weed, and the last DJ set of the night gives you the worst headache imaginable… festival season! It’s very rare that heading out to the wops, going hard on the seltzers, or cramming into a car with a driver on their learners goes without a hitch. These stories may serve as cautionary tales to those who dare, or just some cheeky yarns to those more sensible.
Got crossfaded and had to leave Laneway before the headlining act because I felt so panicked. I was fully in bed at about 7:30pm.
Slept in the car in the Waioeka Gorge for half an hour after leaving RNV. Was running on two hours of sleep.
Once I went along to a festy with some mates absolutely crammed in a van to save some cash. After we parked up, two of our pals wanted to smoke before heading in, and said they’d catch up with the rest of us. We came back later after the first night to find them asleep in the back—they had missed the whole lineup for that day.
—Not so sleepy
One New Year’s Eve, in the R&V main stage crowd, I actually got peed on. Like, someone just peed right there in the crowd. At first I thought someone was just spilling their drink all over me, which I honestly would have been fine with. I shrieked in horror when I realised it was WARM. Yuck.
Very shortly after I finished high school, a group of us went away to a festival for New Years. We brought all of the stuff for the tent, and had double-checked it before leaving, but forgot to bring anything to hammer the pegs in with. As a bit of an egg, I tried to use a can of baked beans and stuck a peg right through the can. Soggy bean pegs anyone?
—Bob the Builder
Tried to hack the system to bring beevies into a festival, and buried a bunch of spirits in the field where it was going to be held a few weeks early. When the festival was actually on, we had been a bit too keen on preloading and couldn’t find the bottles anywhere. I think we dug up about eight holes to try and find them—no luck.
People from the next tent over set up my tent, because me and my mate were too tipsy.
[Got] heatstroke, ruined my fave shirt by pouring water on myself and then getting stained when the dust turned to clay.
I stepped foot into the R&V bathroom on the final morning and almost fainted—that scent was just evil. Instead of using the portaloo… I peed outside our tent.
Had a lovely, leisurely drive all the way down to Gisbourne, hiked almost all the way across the festival grounds, and then took out our tent—only to realise we had no tent pegs with us. My friends went off to fetch them, while I lay in the tent for two hours, to stop it from blowing away. Not the best start to R&V.
Was in a sleeping sack with another courteous soul and as I was four inches away from achieving festivities and bliss, my tent was the sole target of a schmuck trying to make a quick buck. After hearing the wrong kind of zipper, I locked eyes with a scrawny teen who I proceeded to kick and curse at. And even though it was a heroic act, the other person in my sleeping sack was suddenly not in the mood.