September Forever - Rifflandia 2015
While there's always a kind of melancholy as summer nears its end, the return of Victoria’s yearly Rifflandia festival goes a long way in taking the pain out of saying goodbye.
Celebrating its 8th year this September, it’s truly impressive to see the multitude of venues and local businesses taking part in an event that’s grown exponentially since its original attendance of 1,500.
This year's event so happened to coincide with my resignation from work, giving me an extra reason to tie one on. And so, on Friday evening Ryan and I headed down with our friends to Royal Athletic Park to kick off the weekend with the Arkells.
The beauty of Rifflandia is just how expertly the whole operation runs, from entertaining the kids with arts and crafts to keeping the drinks line flowing smoothly.
We didn't remain at R.A.P. for long on Friday due to husband's insistence on not missing Doomtree at Phillips Backyard, and so we ventured onward, arriving two hours in advance of the show. Hip-hop isn't generally my thing, but this can easily change when Phillips' STUMP Coastal Forest Gin is added to the mix. With little else to do during the wait but soak up the music, we joined the crowd grooving to Pigeon Hole and The Underachievers, breaking only to power up with salty-but-delicious slices of Ali Baba pizza.
The same way a live hockey game is an entirely different experience than the televised version, hip-hop is transformed when it’s played out live. It’s not a genre I listen to much on my own time, but seeing it up close amid the superfans had me jiving something fierce. Not to mention the the group’s female vocalist, Dessa, holding her own among the group’s male cast. As I sloppily raised my phone to try for a shot of her being as bad-ass as they come, the girl standing behind me leaned forward to declare, "Sexiest. Woman. Ever." No argument here, friend.
The show ended sometime after midnight, and by then I'd reached my max for the day. We re-joined with our friends for a requisite stop at Subway before making it home and falling into bed, my right eardrum literally hurting from too much fun (aka decibels).
Saturday afternoon Ryan and I lined up again at R.A.P. on a mission for sustenance as soon as we passed security. I was crazy-excited about Coast Lunchbox offering up their fare as one of this year's food vendors, as I'd been fantasizing about their sesame tuna wrap since June's Tall Tree Festival. I scoped out the other food trucks over the course of the weekend, but nothing could rival the excellence of this wrap, which I ate exclusively during the course of the weekend, save for a sample of hubs' burrito ("Not as good as Coast Lunchbox, FYI.").
With Saturday offering the weekend's strongest line-up, the crowd continue to grow as the day carried on, the sun's eventual appearance adding to the revelry. We double-fisted drinks as we listened to Tokyo Police Club croon their emo hearts out, making a game of counting the number of balloons floating into the sky (seven, for the record). I threw down $15.00 for handmade floral crown, a purchase fuelled by Stoli blueberry vodka, but which I justified by explaining the cuteness-factor of the couple selling said crowns ("They have a baby! I'm supporting their livelihood!").
Determined not to miss Modest Mouse, the band we were most looking forward to seeing, we anchored ourselves at the front of the stage well in advance of show time. And it seemed all well and good, until the crowd around us had suddenly multiplied.
Anytime I see an aerial view of a big event - say, New Year's Eve in Times Square - I'm overcome with a sense of panic, wondering, "What if you have to pee?", or "What if there's an earthquake?!" As the mob swelled around us in anticipation of Modest Mouse, one part of me was trying very much to be cool (I mean, Modest Mouse!). Another part of me was freaking the fuck out, getting antsy for the show to start already so I could quit fretting about the probability of a natural disaster and being crushed by a stampede.
Also, having got so caught up in the day's fun, I made one critical mistake: forgetting to eat dinner. So there we were, crunched up against the crowd around us, me becoming increasingly anxious and starving. All the while still trying to play it cool, mind you.
Eventually Modest Mouse appeared on stage, and though it was indeed exciting to see them perform five rows away from the front, my initial enthusiasm had by then morphed into full-blown discomfort. "Any chance you'd want to move back?", I tentatively queried my husband. "I HAVE TO PEE SO BAD!", he shouted.
Ohmigawd, thankgawd thankgawd! We spent the next fifteen minutes navigating the sweaty crowd, a crowd unlike any crowd I've been a part of in my lifetime, fearing we'd never reach the periphery. But alas, we made it, and joined the fray after a hurried visit to the loo. And though the band looked miniature from our new vantage point, I was consoled by the greatly reduced probability of being trampled to death in the event of a disaster.
As for their show? I don't know if I'd hyped it up in my head, expecting it to be some sort of experience of epic proportion. I was explaining it to Ryan after the fact, admitting my disappointment over how anticlimactic it had seemed. I suspect my own mood had a big part to play, and had I been diligent enough to stay nourished or drunk enough to stay unbothered, the experience might've been altogether different. Nonetheless, once the show wrapped the park transformed to an overwhelming surge of people funnelling out the single staircase, my hangry-ness rising to dangerous levels.
In an effort not to be super lame and get the most out of our wristbands, hubs and I motored downtown with plans to eat before checking out the night time shows. This plan quickly went awry when the rain started to pour, us caught without any jackets to keep even marginally dry.
Proverbial towel all in.
Within the half hour we were parked at home on the sofa in dry clothes watching Colbert, not an ounce of regret in our choice.
I almost don't want to admit how the final day unfolded much the same way - arriving at R.A.P. in the late afternoon to catch the weekend's last shows shortly before the rain started to pour. Our patience having diminished over the course of the weekend, we finally admitted defeat and ventured home after only a couple of hours, agreeing we just don't bounce back like we used to.
Yes, the weekend started strong and finished on a bit of a sorry note, and yet I have no regrets.
Just a little better understanding of the virtue of pacing oneself.