I don't have a favorite holiday, but
when I'm asked I say the Fourth of July.
In a way that's true, but it's easier than explaining that I see
summer as a holiday in itself and that it is my favorite holiday.
Picking my favorite day of the summer
can be a little trickier. Some years
there are a whole bunch of options, like deciding between camping at lake or some
road trip. This year's choice was easy
considering how much I disliked this summer.
On August 5 I went to Kanrocksas. For those of you who might not know, it's
this huge music festival that runs the same weekend as Lollapalooza -- mainly because
it's easier to round up a ton of big name acts this way. Being a two-day festival, most bands just
alternate days between Kanrocksas and Lollapalooza.
I should mention that I went to
Kanrocksas with a girl who I will call "Scot." That's not her real name, but it was my
nickname for her -- she hated it. I
won't get into her background too much because she's pretty much irrelevant to
this story, but I mention her because there is a "we" throughout.
We go to the concert grounds around 9:30
a.m. and it was pouring down rain and cold, at least by August standards, but
the rain was supposed to go away by early afternoon and leave us with not just
100 degree temperatures, but a terrible humidity as well.
The grounds were on a Nascar speedway
and they allowed camping on the grass parking lot outside. We set up the tent in the rain and I loved
it. I drank vodka, she drank beer and it
felt like tailgating at a football game.
The rain left sooner than I imagined and
the heat came even quicker. After only
being there for maybe an hour or less, the temperature had risen to around 90
degrees.
But we drank. I think Scot read or something and I slept in
the tent while we waited for the gates to open, which I think was around noon.
I woke up and spent eight dollars on a
20 pound bag of ice, which melted inside our cooler within a couple hours.
We eventually made our way in to the
concert. It was a huge place. There were three stages and walking from one
end to the other took over 10 minutes.
We checked out -- and made fun of -- all the vendor tents and what not,
which were basically just hippies and gypsy-looking people selling flags with
marijuana leaves on them.
We ate some terrible carnival-like food
and listened to some decent music.
Problem was, the heat was getting to the point where the festival was no
longer fun. Around midday we were
watching the Arctic Monkeys put on a good set, but it was hard to enjoy because
it was just miserable.
Scot was feeling it too I'm sure, and I
was worried it was straining our already tension-filled relationship. But we soldiered on -- past 3 p.m. and
somehow past 4 p.m. too. Water was $6 for a
tiny bottle so it was starting to get expensive too. Plus, we had to camp here and then do it all
over again the next day.
The concert allowed reentry so I made
the call to head back to the car so we could drink some cheap liquor and eat
something.
I told Scot to start the car and turn up
the air conditioning. She did and I
grabbed the alcohol and we drank in the car.
The day so far had sucked and I had had such high hopes for the
festival. There were so many bands I
wanted to see, and also I hoped it would be what would bring Scot and me closer
together.
The night before she told me that we
would probably fight a bunch at Kanrocksas, but that I shouldn't take it
personally if we did. That was the
coolest thing anyone has ever said to me.
So we're sitting in the car and she puts
on A Perfect Circle. We're drinking, the
sun's finally starting its descent, and the air conditioner is really kicking
in. I start to realize that this is the
moment, that this is summer. It starts
to make me sad, because I know this is going to be the memory I will take from
the $300 concert (In full disclosure, Scot paid for my ticket. Thanks!)
But I'm not sad for long, or maybe the
sadness begins to turn into a celebration of sorts. We're sitting in a car and I'm hoping to god
that it will work out with her, even though I know that it won't. I'm know we're doomed, but I don't care
because this will be our swan song.
It doesn't matter though. I'm not worried about it ending, I'm just
happy that it happened. I'm drunk in a
Ford listening to A Perfect Circle and looking over acres and acres of parking
lot and the thousands of people walking around.
She makes a joke, "You're doing it
wrong!"
I don't remember what she was referring
to but I remember we laughed for a long time about it.
She plays a song by Grace Potter, a singer who will be performing the
next night, and I try and explain how awesome the guitar riff in the song
is. I'm sure I came across like a
complete tool for doing that, but I don't care.
I was beyond judgment. Maybe she
never judged me in the first place.
Doesn't matter now and really it didnt't matter then because the air conditioning is on and it's so hot outside these
windows and all I get excited that it's going to be night soon and that all the
good bands will be playing when we go back in.
Scot, rightly so, makes fun of me for
drinking back to back vodka and Red Bulls, but it's all good natured in the car
at Kanrocksas. It's our camp site. It's like the first six hours of the day
never happened. We start talking about
the bands playing tomorrow and she starts going through her iPod to play them for me and tells me everything about them.
Damn, she's beautiful too and it sucks
because I know it will never work out.
It sucks, but I'm happy. I'm
happy when she kisses me in the car and tastes like Leinenkugel summer
shandy. I'm happy when she starts comparing
a song by A Perfect Circle and Tool, both of which are about the singer's
mother dying. I love that she cares so
much about music, but what the fuck is she talking about? I don't care, I'm just happy. I'm happy for everything. The future doesn't exist in this car, only
alcohol and the realization that in twenty years this moment will be my only
memory of the summer of 2011.
Why can't it work out between Scot and
me? You already know why and you've
known why from the beginning. But you pretend and so does she -- I mean,
pretending's fun, just not sustainable.
In the end, of course, nothing is, but you at least hope to get a solid
memory like this. You love her in a way,
but it's not her you love. You love that
she's a catalyst for all these reactions.
You think about charging your phone in the
cigarette charger, but you don't really care.
I mean, you don't need to talk to anyone tonight. That phone has the names of so many people
more important than her in it, but you will forget most of them sooner or later
and she will live on. You hate
that. You hate that this good memory
will always be associated with her but what can you do, except make the moment
more real by thinking about how beautiful she is and how smart she is and how
she's more polite than you've ever give her credit for -- she ate that weird and
disgusting chicken/spaghetti thing you made for her.
But she forgave you for making bad food,
never having enough money, and for being a douche who explains the intricacies
of certain guitar riffs. Don't hate
her. By putting up with your bullshit
she earned the right to be forever in your memory of summer 2011.
In the car you and her will always be
together -- trapped and disconnected from the outside world together behind the glass, metal, and poly-plastics. The two of you may as well be encased underwater, forever living in a world of isolation.
Sitting in a car in suburban Kansas City will be your joint grave. It's how you will define her. It's who she will be forever.
This memory of her flipping through her
iPod and talking about Maynard Keenan.
Who the fuck is this person? Scot, that is. You know who Maynard Keenan is. It
doesn't matter. You love her, but no,
you don't love her. You never will.
You're so drunk right now and why the
fuck did you spend eight dollars on ice that has already melted? Is this what your life will always be, a
series of memories with people you will only know for a couple months?
You're happy though. You're happy in this car. You're happy because the night is going to be
amazing. It's like that summer in
Muskegon, Michigan when you were 8 years old and your parents were getting a
divorce. You stayed with some
family friends while your parents sorted things out. That Fourth of July that weird family, who's
name's you will never remember (of course you won't remember them, you were
never drunk in a car with them!), took you to Lake Michigan for a fireworks
show. You were so happy then. You remember that happiness. It feels just like this moment.
Then a song ends and you look at your
watch and realize that we have to go back in so we don't miss anything. She and I stumble out of the car. I think she stops by a first aid tent to get
some aspirin or something.
The night's a blur, but I remember dancing
and sitting on an embankment of the racetrack for a little while. The night air feels so good. Nothing feels sweeter than the summer night night air.
I think we head back to our campsite
around midnight. Who knows. I can't remember if I even slept that
night. But in the morning when we woke
up I knew it was over between us.
I was happy it was over between us. I don't even remember who she is anymore, and I can live the rest of my life never caring about who she is, or who she has become. I remember that the sweet summer air though. That night air never felt better than it did in 2011.
