9 things we secretly hate about music festivals

Festival season is finally drawing to a close and we’re sad to be hanging up our flower headbands for another year. Or are we? As great as experiencing amazing live music, having a boogie with your best friends and letting go of your inhibitions is, there are many things we’ve come to resent about music festivals. Here are just a handful we’ve come to hate.

1. Having to carry everything

Yay, you’ve arrived! All you have to do now is trek miles across a hilly field in a pair of uncomfortable boots, laden down with a backpack stuffed with twice your own body weight in baked beans, vodka and baby wipes, just to discover you left the air bed in the car.

All the time at the back of your mind you’re thinking about the fact that you could have had a long weekend sunning it up in Spain for the same money.

2. Sleeping in a tent

Festival goers resting in a tent in a campsite
(Yui Mok/PA)

No matter how many hours you spent merrily roasting marshmallows with the Scouts or pitching up for the night with your siblings in the garden, nothing makes sleeping in a little plastic cell as an adult remotely fun.

Admit it: nobody really enjoys drifting off swaddled in a sleeping bag, shuddering in the cold and waking up at 7am covered in sweat.

3. That one total moron who jumps on your tent

You know the one. He’ll be wearing a bandana, clutching a two-litre bottle of basics cider, saying “siiiiiiick” a lot.

Eventually, doing vodka shots through his eyes and shouting “GET IT DOWN YER” in people’s faces will become tiresome and he’s looking for a new activity, namely jumping on people’s tents and thus bringing down your hard-pitched work. He probably just got his A-level results.

4. All the cool stuff you can’t afford to do

The hot tubs under the stars, the cool roller coaster, the Sunday afternoon banquet cooked up by a top chef; all fun things you can’t afford to do because you blew your budget on beer and paella on the first day and now you’re living off cereal bars and straight gin for the next few days.

Who ARE these mysterious people who can afford onsite spa treatments and a yoga class? What do they do for a living? Why are they spending five days in a grubby field instead of sipping champagne in St Tropez?

5. The weather

Camping Animated GIF
Unfortunately our little island is prone to rather a lot of rain in the summer months, so there’s no way to guarantee your weekend will be sans rain, no matter which month you might spend camped in a field. There’s a 99% chance you’re going to end up getting a lot more acquainted with the sludgy brown ground than you ever thought possible. If you’re not landed with a wet weekend, a sunny spell isn’t really much better as dust, sunburn and dehydration present a whole new world of problems. Sometimes you just can’t win. 6. £5 cans of beer

A festivalgoer carrying beer
(Yui Mok/PA)

As if your ticket, travel and essential supplies hadn’t already come to enough, most music festivals don’t let you bring your own booze into the arena so unless you’re an expert smuggler with a trustworthy face, you’re lumped with yet another pricey bill. Oh, and don’t forget the minimum card spend of £10 or £3.50 fee for drawing out cash. Think of all the sangria you could be drinking in Spain with that hard-earned cash. 7. Not washing Baby Animated GIF

It’s an inevitable reality we all come to accept at music festivals, but not washing for five days in a row doesn’t ever get any easier.

You can try your hardest to pretend that brown stain on your jeans is definitely mud and all that warm liquid someone sloshed down your hair is just beer, but we all know you’re basically bathing in strangers’ body fluids for a few days.

8. Portaloos

glastonbury toilets
(Ben Birchall/PA)

These small rectangles of hell are possibly the very worst thing about festivals, ever. A bit grim on the first day, steadily worse by the second day but by the third they are always filled with unidentified fluids, soiled underwear and old cardboard toilet roll holders.

9. Going home

Packing up your mud-spattered, muggy-smelling belongings into your rucksack, trekking back across the now rubbish-strewn site back to the entrance, waiting for a bus packed full of fellow festival-goers and another jam-packed train full of festival-goers is painful enough before you even begin to think about all the gin you drank last night and the mere three hours’ sleep you got.

This post was featured on Irish Examiner and was written for Snappa.

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