Seattle

Ever since last Memorial Day, when I watched various live sets on line from Washington State's Sasquatch Music Festival, I've had a case of what can only be described as "Sasquatch Envy." If only I had been able to move to the Northwest back when I received the job offer in 2008 and not been another victim of the collapse of the housing market (I couldn't sell my house and had to turn down the offer), I could have been there, among all that great scenery, enjoying all that great music, a part of that happy crowd. If I could only have been there, I thought, then everything would be perfect.

If only . . .

Of course, if I had sold the house, taken the job, and moved to Portland, chances are things would have been no more or less perfect than they are right now.  I probably wouldn't have even gone to Sasquatch had I moved.  After all, I've never gone to Tennessee's Bonnaroo Festival, which is just a couple of hours away from my unsold home, but don't confuse me with facts - I'm practicing self-pity here. 

On the other hand, maybe the festival wasn't as great as I'd thought: according to one on-line review in an alternative, Portland newspaper, the average Sasquatch attendee appeared young enough to have just crawled out of their mother's womb, "clutching glow sticks and with belly rings already attached." The reviewer went on to state that he's come to realize that he has no idea how to even communicate with people that young - they might as well be another species. "So to live among somewhere in the vicinity of 50,000 of these. . . things. . .  for four days, crammed together in an isolated section of central Washington, is not my idea of a vacation."

The reviewer was 26 years old. I'm more than twice his age, and now I'm off to spend my vacation at not one but two such festivals, each of which I've been warned that I'm ludicrously too old to attend.

It all started when I saw an article about Seattle's Bumbershoot Festival that stated:

"When the producers of Seattle's annual Bumbershoot Festival released the lineup for this year's Labor Day weekend run, there was widespread disappointment among many music fans. The biggest complaint - no big names as in years past, like Bob Dylan or the Black Eyed Peas."

"There's not a single band I want to see, and I haven't heard of most them," sniffed Sharon Esperanza, a 19-year-old Penn State University student.  Another person noted, "When Broken Social Scene is the headliner for a major festival, that spells FAIL."

So let me get this straight, I thought: a three-day music festival guaranteed not to be attended by plaintive 19-year-old college girls or by anonymous commenters who don't like Broken Social Scene, one of my favorite bands? What's more, since it's an in-town festival, I can stay in the comfort of a hotel and not have to camp out among 50,000-odd "things" for the three days. It sounded perfect, and at $75 for a full, three-day pass, it was a bargain, so I went ahead and bought Bumbershoot tickets as a cure for my Sasquatch Fever.

So now I'm off.  To Seattle.  For Bumbershoot.  By the time this post appears on line, I should be on a west-bound plane.

Also, a hyper-literate, northwest-inspired Friday Night Video for you.