@ZackTeibloom I’m using costumes now. It was inevitable I guess. After I tried the kick-off return for forty five minutes, but the defense was impenetrable. Trust me, I tried. The entrance all the way left was double teamed. The check in line on the right had a 400-pound guard who wouldn’t leave his post. I even sunk so low as to walk out to consider offering someone $20 for their ticket. I shouldn’t even admit that.
Quick tangent: I saw an old, probably homeless man with no teeth, (who seemed like he’d had no teeth for a while, because his lip had curled into his mouth pretty extensively) standing in front of the gates. He looked beyond confused, as if he knew other homeless guys were there to scalp tickets, but he didn’t know where to begin. As I started to announce I needed an extra, a group of guys approached and gave the homeless man their extra. He seemed stunned. He looked to me and wanted me to go with him so I went to the gate and pretended I was his grandson. It happened so fast I wasn’t sure what was really happening, but he went stumbling into the festival. I’m telling you this, you’d pay good money to see what happened to that guy the rest of the day. He had no idea where he was. Regardless, it was time to get extreme. I had to garbage-suit up!I saw two dudes in baby blue garbage t-shirts. The front said “Clean up!” and the back was a cool Jazz Fest design. I noticed one of the guys had an undershirt on which made him my target. These guys were not working hard. In the 10 minutes I watched them, they wheeled a garbage can back and forth without accomplishing anything. I asked the undershirt guy if they had an extra shirt I could borrow. He said his boy was coming with more later, but with no timetable on when his boy was to arrive with these shirts, I had to make a move.
I told him if he handed me the shirt over the fence, I’d only need it for 30 yards until I was clear of security and on the other side and could flip it back to him. I offered him $20, wished I had a smaller bill, but he accepted and tore it off. I handed him the crumbled up $20 between the hole in the fence and he tossed the shirt over. I slid the dirty XXL shirt over my head and waltzed right past the guard who had earlier told me to “Wait for my friend” on the other side of the fence and he smiled at me as I passed. Without breaking stride, I flipped the shirt to my new friend as I turned the corner to the festival.
The garbage man can.
- Successful Crash #30: The Jazz Fest Sidler
- Successful Crash #31, #33: The Jazz Fest Kick-off Return
- Successful Crash #3: Reggae Fest
- Successful Crash #13: FOTC “It’s Crashing Time”
- Successful Crash #16: The Wristband Situation @Stubb’s for TV on the Radio