A crushed daisy seen outside of the gate at this weekend's Electric Daisy Carnival. It's only 1PM on day one and the bad omens have started to roll in.
Ferris Bueller once said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once and a while, you could miss it." I like to think that the same goes for music festivals. There's often so much going on at your average weekender—from mile-long artist line-ups, to food stands, carnival rides, and of course the growing contingent of branded beverage stages—that one can easily miss the action going on right in front of (or below) you.
Lucky for all you guys, VICE puts a lot of time and care into training its employees to stay alert in their search for the weird and wild. So while Martin Garrix and Tiësto were strutting their stuff on some of the world's biggest portable stages, I was mainly scanning the ground (and adjacent areas) for strange items. Here's what I saw:
When the downpour began not even halfway through day one, a few hundred frantic EDC goers proceeded to mob in front of the Bud Light Platinum VIP stage entrance—one of the only indoor venues. While getting down to Gina Turner's house bombs we stared outside at the hordes of sad, wet ravers and caught this particularly depressed flower child. Aw.
Girl 1: "Mom, maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
Girl 2: "Do you know if Molly still works if it gets wet?"
The hippie contingent at a festival like EDC is an interesting one. Most of their community is made up of Bassnectar fans and wandering souls in search of Ketamine, like this young man, who thought my backpack meant I was holdling. I told him Mysteryland was about two hours due north.
With Fleet Week going on in the Big Apple during EDC weekend, there was a small but noticeable population of Sailor Jerries on the grounds. I noticed this young seaman, who seemed confused about what to do with himself during Destructo's set at the NeonGARDEN stadium on Saturday. He had apparently acquired a kandi bracelet already, and I imagine he was thinking something like, "Man, this is way more fun than getting on an aircraft carrier with a bunch of dudes."
That's one way to get to the front of the food line, Pineapple Girl.
Before EDC, I had never seen someone snack an entire bag of magic mushrooms in one swig like a quick shot of Jagermeister—but this guy was all over it. I like to think that's how someone would eat shrooms in a cartoon.
EDC has to be one of the least eco-friendly festivals I've ever attended—which I guess makes given that it's plopped down in a parking lot in the bowels of New Jersey, also known as the bowels of the United States of America (I'm from New Jersey so I can say that). With the additon of day one's rain storm, the ground turned into a disgusting wet mess of trash. While gazing down at some of the depressing litter I noticed the reflection of the festival's Ferris wheel in a puddle. I guess there's always some beauty to be seen amidst the muck.
This is Mark. Mark is a VJ. A VJ is the guy who pushes all of the buttons while the DJs push their own buttons, and the result is face-melting visuals that make everyone get turned up to death. Mark told us that he got into VJing because of his work as an independent video artist in his own right. His favorite artist is Dan Deacon, and his VJing style is inspired by the transcendent, all-encompassing possibilities of psychedelics. That's about all we could make sense of from what Mark told us, amidst his set for Dutch house dude R3HAB.
Such an odd assortment of items in the press tent.
*All festival-goers must submit to proctology exam before entrance into the main stage.*
No glove... no love. And that glove seriously needs some love!
Question one: What is Orbit Kids, and how is it any different from normal Orbit? Question two: Why is anyone who would be young enough to be chewing Orbit Kids at EDC? SMDH.
For most of the festival I surived on Mint Chocolate Clif bars, but at one point felt like I was going to melt into a pool of neon colored goo if I didn't actually ingest some real food. The line to purchase the Chicken Finger platter was easily one of the most stressful parts of the entire weekend and was a case study in poor crowd control. I waited for almost an hour to spend ten dollars on a platter of soggy chicken fingers and fries, and by the time I actually got the goods I barely wanted them. Of course I still continued to devour them in a matter of seconds while I danced outside the tent to Carl Cox. It looks like whoever abandoned this one lonely slice of chicken couldn't muster up the courage or appetite to finish what they started.
Bro you're supposed to put it in your socks. They never look there!
Maybe that dude really just needed some ranch dressing on that chicken finger he left behind.
What Insomniac calls their tubs of water bottles in the media area. I think I get it?
No shirt, no shoes, no problem.
At least she's trying. You go gurl.
Your humble author enjoying a quick cat nap. Check mate, EDC!
David wants to know if Pineapple Girl is down to hit up a farmer's market sometime. Hit the Twitter if interested. @DLGarber