had a nightmare on the rave front over the bank holiday weekend down in sussex, there was meant to be a multi rigger on, and i was meant to help out, but our logistics man had been abroad getting mashed and couldnt get his shit together, which was gutting, but i thought thats one less bit of responsablity. id almost forgotten what it was like just going to a rave. so we get in the car at midnight and head to where the party line’s taking us, but we get there and the police had blocked all the roads. with a “police accident” sign, of all things. fucking liars.
we stopped nearby where some other people had gathered, sharing useless bits of info like “i recon its that direction, cant be more than three miles, lets walk it”, when they had no actual clue of the terrrain or even the direction. i was in my gilrfreinds car, and we were nearly persuaded to take a dirt track, but i inspected it, and we would have bottomed out. we circle the area a few times, try and find a petrol station with a decent map, but eventually give up and go home at about three thirty.
get back home, managed to ring a mate who was there, and he said the party was relocating to somewhere miles off. my lady was already asleep by this point (girls, eh, lamers) so we werent gonna get there. my mate steve who was with us managed to convince someone else to give him a lift, but once he’d sobered up. i went to bed, the first time ive ever not actually got to a rave i was heading for. woke up the next day and i turns out steve went at midday the next day, only to see it closed down by the filth at half two.
lame.
