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Sasquatch 2006 - Day 2: Processed |
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Sasquatch 2006- Day 2: Processed
After sleeping through the torrential rain that had thwarted our “sleep rocking” neighbors, whose tent was subsequently soaked due to the lack of a properly attached rain cover, we awoke to the hustle and bustle of a campground preparing itself for an afternoon/evening of music and entertainment. There was quite a buzz over the headliner that evening, Ben Harper, and the populous indulged in post slumber beers and early morning bowls in eager preparation.
We began our day with car-made-coffee and some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. These were shortly followed by the several beers that would sustain us while we hustled our merchandise around the grounds. We packed our bags, decked ourselves out in Phetasy apparel and hit the hippies where it hurt. Their wallets.  
We weren’t the only ones who felt this way. Several of the people that we sold shirts to just moments before we were hauled off on the back of a Gator were up in arms, creating what one CMS supervisor stated was a “spectacle” over his walkie-talkie. He immediately requested “back-up” to help resolve the situation. Yes, Phetasy is well known throughout the festival circuit for inciting riots and “back-up” is always a must, so make sure those walkie-talkies are fully charged guys. Shortly after reinforcements arrived, we were dragged off in front of our loyal fans to the office where we were to be “processed.”
The ride down was nothing short of heated. You could probably feel the steam permeating from our skin as the CMS supervisor stated that this was his “fun job” and that we weren’t being “busted”. What else would you call being toted off in a van to be processed? We soon realized how amateur our captors were when we arrived at the “office” (a.k.a. a picnic bench surrounded by a temporary fence). Or processors included a CMS supervisor by weekend/toll booth operator by day, a CMS staffer by weekend/burrito maker extraordinaire by day, and a four-toothed CMS hillbilly by weekend/four-toothed hillbilly by day. The supervisor would take one of the staff members outside of the fenced in area and explain to him what to say, whereas the peon would return and reinstate what he was just told to us. This pattern continued five or six times before all of our t-shirts and greeting cards were confiscated and our licenses photocopied.
Apparently, we can’t seem to catch a break these days. After we were released we walked back up to our campsite disgruntled, disheartened, and uncertain as to what we should do. After speaking with our comrade in L.A. we decided that there wasn’t much else we could do except enjoy what seemed to be a very beautiful day for the perpetually rainy state of Washington. Oh wait… an hour after we got back it started SLEETING. Not raining. Torrentially fucking SLEETING.  
Article Series
This article is part 2 of a 3 part series. Other articles in this series are shown below:
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Sasquatch 2006 - Day 1: Livin' the Dream
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Sasquatch 2006 - Day 2: Processed
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THE RAIN ON OUR PARADE
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