No one likes a jackass boasting about their shot-taking prowess or pill-popping ability. No, we don’t care if the spliff you rolled was as long as one of your limbs or if you can recite the list of drinks you ploughed through like it’s the special menu at a Michelin-starred restaurant.
So it rained, and the festival grounds are more like pools than fields, and mud seems to get everywhere — it can make a festival epically memorable, but the last thing anyone wants is to be hit in the face with a mud ball by some random festive version of the Swamp Thing. Enjoy rolling around in it if you didn’t get to jump in puddles enough as a kid, no need to involve the rest of us, thanks, everyone.
Similar to the drink lister, don’t be a one-upper of any kind.
On the other hand, don’t be a downer and whinge about the weather, lineup, or lack of quality food stalls at the festival…vibe killer.
Some of us don’t have 20-person tents with built-in pizza ovens. We’ll be camped next to you eating canned tuna, noodles, and cream cheese on stale bread.
Another breed of vibe killer.
You’re at a festival.
If you managed to get close enough to a DJ in one of the smaller tents, why not tell them what to play? That’ll go down super well.
If you’re having fun play-fighting outside someone’s tent, that’s awesome, enjoy yourself. The moment you start body slamming your fellow fighters into someone else’s tent, you’re just being a dick.
I’ve had nothing at a festival on the final day — it’s pretty rough, and I’ve seen the lack of love that overcomes most people when you have nothing. You may be luckier at a reggae or psy trance festival, but then again that’s where I was, and cigarettes and water were offered begrudgingly.