“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.
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.
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.
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.
“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