Taking drugs and then trying to set up a tent is like getting sprayed with pepper spray and trying to solve a Rubik’s cube. I needed an adderall, an instruction manual and a fucking Eagle Scout to help me get situated at Bonnaroo. And I’m fairly certain that the Step 1 in the instruction manual is: Make sure your brain hasn’t oozed out your earholes before beginning setup. Because it must be impossible to set up a tent when you no longer have a grasp of what a tent is. The dude in the wife beater at least has an ounce of promise, a trace of leadership. The skinny-fat dude with his shirt off makes me embarrassed to be the same species as him and should be impaled with a tent stake. Publicly. And I don’t even know why these bozos are trying to set up their tent when they’re going to end up sleeping in a hospital bed anyway.
