Block Party 2017 was this past weekend, and we learned a few things: a lot of Highlanders’ stamina are lower from the months off of drinking, and physical injury from the mosh pits took some out of the game. If you didn’t make it to the concert, The Black Sheep sent a correspondent into the field to provide a semi-regular rundown so you can pretend like you were there instead of dry heaving into a plastic bag:
The time you were supposed to be at your pre-game, but you’re still getting ready. What if A$AP Ferg brings out some friends, like, for instance, the most beautiful man in the world, A$AP Rocky?! You have to look good in case this is the day he realizes you are meant for each other.
The time you actually get to the pre-game, even though this is the time Block Party starts.
4:33 p.m.: You’re already on your third shot and realize you should pace yourself and wait minutes before the next one.
Your fourth shot. It just gets easier and easier.
You’ve lost your R’Card. Someone’s probably using your R’Card to line up some coke.
“Is it Week 1 or 2 next week?” Really makes you think.
Feeling slightly nauseous, it’s time to go to Block Party.
Lyft and Uber is expensive, so it’s time to walk! You’re grabbing onto your friend and pretending you’re showing affection, when really you’re just looking for stability.
Your friend gets the wrong idea and starts kissing your cheek.
“Oh sh*t, where’s my R’Card?? Wait, it’s in my phone case…where’s my phone!”
You’re in! The only part you messed up on was after the ticket takers said, “Have fun at the concert,” you replied, “You too!”
Playboy Carti is about to go on, so everyone wants to light up. Where are the joints? REPEAT: Where are the joints?!
You run back to the port-a-potties, but they’re not there and no one’s seen them. Yeah, right. Someone’s high right now off your shit. The joints, not the port-a-potties sh…
Oh no, the nausea. Maybe some water and food will help.
Medic tent isn’t where you thought it was. While you wait for them to come get you, you finally breakdown and make a note to apologize to your roommate for getting vomit all over the Thrasher shirt they let you borrow.
Stretcher arrives, maybe there’s a chance to be back for Ferg…
Sunday morning, 7 a.m.:
…*regains consciousness* Well, there’s always next year.
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