“Urghhhhhh…FUCK.”, I exclaimed slowly slipping out of my bed on Sunday morning. My body was having a full-scale battle with coordination between my legs and arms because of my disgustingly spent Saturday serving people plates and plates of food while oscillating between drunk panic and hunger. I had already missed the first two hours of Superbalist: In the City, which pretty bad considering I signed up to do media coverage for the event.

Basically, how media coverage works is, you work for your ticket by taking photos and writing – two things I am progressively bad at, mainly because I like to drink and forget that I am there to work and have an awful relationship with any camera related device.

Take Pictures of Everything but the actual stage

 

Once I arrived and paid 50 RAND for parking, I began to take pictures of everything but, the actual stage and performers to see if my camera was working. After shots of the bartender, shoes a half attempt at a crowd I concluded that yes the camera was in fact working, and, that I only had 3 more pictures left on the roll – and If I was going to spend cash developing photos best believe the rest of the shots I took was going to be of my friends.

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Drink, ALOT (and mix)

 

Day drunk is a real. Two tequilas and black labels in, the sun pelting down on my pathetic white skin called for a chemical reaction of “WHERE THE FUCK AMMM IIII” to kick in during the first hour. I retreated to the place I call festival home, benches.

In order to watch Mac Miller up close and personal I was going to have to brave the 32 degree African sun. Not a chance mate, I’ll see you by the bar haphazardly beginning my vodka and Redbull journey.

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I found myself talking to some dude for 10 minutes about how honestly shit Flying Fish beer is. And it is, the orange Flying Fish is like Becks mixed with a capful of orange cordial. If you drink that your credibility lowers to by 50% automatically.

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Forget that you are actually at a concert

 

What’s that sound at the back, some DJ set playing indie – Oh that was actually “Fostering People.”, No? “Foster THE People.”. I had missed a good chunk of their set because I was losing my grasp on reality. I had one last photo on my roll and had to make it count otherwise my coverage would truly be a disgusting fail at exercising what I had learned in Media studies and at my previous job working for DONT PARTY.

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“I promise I’ll take better photos next time event organizers!”

Ditch early to get food.

 

Eventually, my cousin and I reunited, and without even speaking we knew that our goal was simple and clearer than daylight: get to Doppio Zero in Greenside, and eat some form of carbohydrate food as soon as possible – or – realistically never make it home. If I had watched the entire Foster the People set, I wouldn’t have been alive to even write this coverage piece.

Write the coverage post nearly a week later

 

Self-explanatory.

Author

Aspiring Adult, lives some sort of life, will probably be rich one day (or not?)

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