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So your scored the tickets and made your way to the festival. A few friends had shown interest in joining up but when the time came, they all bailed.
All this matters little because the sun is shining, Santigold is on stage, the ecstasy (that you were supposed to be splitting among pals) is kicking in hard and to be honest, you may have some mental dissorders.
You're dancing your ass off when some guy starts gettin' down with his bad self right next door. He's a pretty cool looking dude and chances are, he's just here to mock you but at this point nothing short of a horde of evil space-chupacabras is going to harsh your buzz.
Oh who's joined the party? Is that a hairy John Belushi I see? Nice to see you laying out some solid funk, Mr. hairy-Belushi.
Party of five to join in? Oh, let me see if I've got a table. Oh yes, please proceed to get down.
Now what's this? Just nothing but a FULL ON EPIC DANCE PARTY.
Dance on, Sasquatch Music Festival Guy, dance fucking on.
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