Freedomfest

Once every year there is a gathering in the woods where Sol Duc road meets Hiway 101 of the most unholy, most satan-loving, most evvvvvvvil of local death metal bands that rip yr spine out of yr ass and serve it to Lucifer Himself on a flaming silver platter garnished with the big toes of a thousand hapless infants.
Somehow, this whole thing has been dubbed "Freedomfest".

I arrive just after dark, approaching the dirt road someone yells,
"Did you pay?"
"Huh?"
"Did you pay? Ten dollars."
"Man, what kinda Freedom is this anyways?"
It was American through and through.

Five minutes of mellow bush-whacking found me on the other side of the gate and my integrity in tact. The band was sounding something like the Devils flatullence run through a Big Muff with all the knobs turned up and now blasting out of a pile of large amplifiers.
There was unfriendliness in the air. The mosh pit was the rowdiest thing I have ever seen; every other minute a brawl erupted that everybody would get in on and punch or kick or gouge whatever they could until a few walked away bloody and angry.
Everywhere you look there are broodish, primitive red-neck types looking for whatever they can get their hands on to fuck or fight or both. This is the creame of Port Angeles.
The whole thing was a Heironymous Bosch nightmare.

The testosterone hit boiling point somewhere around the wet T-shirt contest. A slew of twitty little high school girls needing to stuff their voids with whatever would fit sauntered across the stage, leaning over the crowd to be groped by half-wit degenerates that marveled aloud to each other about what incredible sluts these were. It was some sort of back-country rite of passage and on the whole just depressing.

Anyways, after that it was all a scene from hell. Bottles flying across the crowd to land wherever they hit, beatings taking place everywhere. Bloody ravaged faces stumbling by with hollow eyes. This is how Port Angeles has a good time. Who forgot to invite the Hells Angels?

Talked with a girl who had two black eyes as a result of not exposing her god-given-groodies thoroughly enough in the t-shirt contest. Then some dude whos a friend of a guy that wants to fuck this girl comes up to start some shit. His posse looks on like rabid dogs in wait of a face to kick in. We exchange some shoves and then somehow the interaction loses inertia and I tell dude to fuck off and tell girl see ya later.

Up the road I curl up in the bushes and sleep.
Then the rain starts and I'm freezing, so I get up to trudge the 13 miles down Sol Duc road to home sweet home. Some girls spot my headlight and say,
"What are you doing in the bushes!?"
"Sleeping!"
"Here, follow the light."

We chilled around a fire until sunrise.
They thought I was crazy. They couldnt understand why I was sleeping in the bushes.
"Well...I forgot to bring a tent and its 13 miles to home."

So anyways, hitched down the road eventually feeling groggy and somehow cheated.

What the fuck kinda Freedom was that anyways?