The first time I went to a big camping music festival, I pitched my tent next to some folks who were really into drugs and ended up hanging out with them a bit.
One night, somebody nearby was lighting fireworks (in the middle of a sea of tents in an open field) and I made some typically uptight comment about how I can’t believe people would do something so risky.
One of my neighbors turned slowly to look at me, took a puff of his mixed-opium/weed joint, and said, “You know, man, we brought 50 bottle rockets with us…” His friend chimed in, “And we lit off 49 of them with nooooo problem…”
There was a pause, and I was like, “And???!”
Neighbor 1: “Well, number 50 went right into some guy’s tent. And that guy got, like, really pissed, man.”
Neighbor 2: “Yeah. And that’s when I realized, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to light off fireworks in a crowded campsite while tripping on shrooms.”
Neighbor 2’s girlfriend: “Naah. It was worth it!”
