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The South Country Fair

It was one stupid weekend.

He wouldn’t talk to me on the morning I left, because he suddenly wanted to go, but now it was too late. Bye! I yelled to his torso through the open car window.

I wandered through the hippies, reacquainting myself with this alternate reality. Barefooted, bare-bodied youth.

The first night was uneventful, so we drank and smoked and put up a tarp, ruining my car in the process. It was no Frog Fest but it was fun and it was dry. Our more prepared neighbor kept asking if we wanted more rope, which we didn’t.
The following morning we wandered through Fort Mcleod, and returned to the festival to discover Nanton friends drinking Pilsners and having songs dedicated to them. They had artist bracelets on because they were Lance’s woofers. We watched Tin & The Toad.

DN played after them. I swooned at his way with words. I’d never seen anything like him, except for that one time.

I was introduced to Kris, as Georgia was handing him beers from our cooler. “The artists’ catering doesn’t open till 4 and he’s on at 3:45.” He later guilted the co-ordinator into bringing him beer on stage at 4 in a box. How many do you need, 5? 10. They were a circus band.
I lost Georgia that night, but made friends with the rope-offering neighbours and drank wine. Georgia was sleeping in a hammock under the stage the whole time. 5 people slept in our tiny tent that night. I think the tentless ones had plans of parties and falling in love, but it didn’t happen, so 5 loveless adults slept together.  

We went to Fort McLeod and had an awesome breakfast. My gravy was on a pineapple ring and our waitress was only 15.

People started leaving the afternoon of the 2nd day. We weren’t ready and we’d been drinking pilsners since breakfast so I threatened to get a motel room. We packed up, laid around the motel, and showered our dirty little bodies.  

As it turns out, the artist party was that night, and some of us had artist bracelets. I was on the lookout for DN but he was being hogged by all the boys. How adored he must be. A sad looking guy drove by me in a van and asked sort of defeatedly if I wanted a hamburger. On his passenger seat was a dozen A&W hamburgers. It was the best hamburger I’d ever had.

I guess I spotted DN in the corner of the artist tent and offered him a bite of my hamburger. I barely remember this but he later told me this was when he became intrigued. 


Georgia showed up a few hours later with a wicked sunburn wearing a white motel towel as a coat, and called it her festival outfit. She brought Palm Bays and everyone danced and danced.

We left the next day. It was one stupid weekend.

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