12:05 A.M.
Final encore wrapping up, one song left. I know what song they will play last, I have heard it on their new album. I tell myself I will wait for the live version to drop on SoundCloud. I skip the merch tent. I don’t have a ticket, I used me Apple Wallet.
1:00 A.M.
First thing out of the rideshare; socks off. Shoes were already removed, and left outside. I knew they would smell and I was extremely upset that an extra pair wasn’t packed. This was a small miscalculation, but not a show stopper.
The spare key was hidden on the side of the house under a very specific rock, chosen for its inconspicuousness. Too wise to leave it under the floor mat.
Upon entering, Tylenol and a large glass of water. Shower and new towel are ready to wash the sweat and evil off. It’s already tomorrow and I’m usually up in about 3 hours, even on the weekends these days. Slightly harder to get to sleep because of the ringing and swollen feet.
I plug my phone in with 54% battery left. I made sure to charge it beforehand. I let someone else know where I am at, and I had my insurance card, just in case.
9:21 A.M.
Waking up, I can predict at least one part of my body is going to be asleep. Usually the last limb buried furthest under my core, or occasionally whatever extremity was wrapped too tight in the sheets.
10:43 A.M.
Overwhelming soreness. Ankles are swollen, but the freezer is half-full of ice packs from a lifetime of injuries. Head no longer ringing, but a few last precious inner ear hairs have surely rattled loose. Thinking about calling in to work on Monday morning.
Its Saturday.
10:47 A.M.
Immediate Advil and a pack of $20 Pedialyte popsicles. Tylenol first thing, three Advil in the morning. This is a critical step, and has been mastered after many failures. Back to sleep for a few hours with season three of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia on in the background at higher-than-normal volume. Air conditioner set to ‘Bomb Cyclone.’
1:12 P.M.
Upon awakening, the Hunter S. Thompson Breakfast Routine is observed. Limited clothing is necessary, but a huge patio umbrella is of the utmost importance; it helps the Aloe Vera gel stay nice and cool, and I have to get lotion on my back soon as the spray sunblock isn’t as sweatproof as it leads on. I consider emailing the company for a refund.
3 P.M.
Fitness abandoned for the day. Round 2 of Advil. I’ve already drank a gallon of water and still feel dehydrated. I scroll through the photos of last night. I share them with my mom and a few friend groups because ‘there are people on social media that will judge’. My younger friends all complain when I don’t make it to the hookah lounge afterwards. Facebook pops the same show from years past on th
3:10
After shaming myself for not going as hard as I used to, I sit down to write some status emails, avoiding yard work.
Welcome to rock festivals after 30.
