The Spring Road Part 2: Fool’s Engagement Crushes

Don’t look at it Marion.

Welcome to Ellie Ray’s RV Park in beautiful Brandford, Florida and the ridiculous slice of party insanity known as Fool’s Engagement Music and Art Festival. For many festivarians it would be their first time back into the sacred gauntlet and it was obviously way overdue. They were a little out of practice but old habits die hard and it took mere microseconds for this microdosed crowd to get jacked and ready for the E-Ticket at the end of the rainbow. Thick clouds of reunion and relief hung low across the grassy knoll. The beast was surely revived from its long slumber and wrapped its collective self around the delicious truth of the celebration. Love and fellowship was once again at the heart of the thing. Did it really happen in such a manner that it was impossible to get out of the way of the speeding magnet train? So many questions left unanswered but one thing was for certain for the throngs of crazy people homesteading the primitive camping field; this was the party they wanted and the one they deserved. They would work hard and together in an effort to get all the way down. That’s right kids, time to pick up right where we left off. Don’t touch that dial. This is the Spring Road Part 2: Fool’s Engagement Crushes the terra firma.

Crossing the St. Mary’s river earlier in the week they’d t-boned an funnel cake trailer and subsequently witnesses one of the wrangler’s media team get tackled by Pasco County sheriffs on the side of the interstate. Par for the course you might say. Eventually “safe” in the confines of the park campground they looked forward to some Florida cold nights, perfect spring days and all the greasy funk, dubstep and folksy bluegrass the stomach and medulla oblongata could handle. Stay with us dear reader. There is no cipher to decode. Just straight up sick fun.

-If you were there, then you know.-

It was all day, all night ridonculous fun for the ages. A smaller festival when that’s what the world needed. As parties slowly began coming back into the fold it would take seasoned festivarians like Tom Laws to witch them into existence. After watching the earth split open and eat everything in sight, the general consensus was that this party was perfect gristly fun, well run with a support staff that created a place where folks could let their freak flag unfurl.

It would be folly to try and translate or even recall what happened for those three days on the banks of the Sante Fe River. Some things are best left forgotten and definitely best left unsaid but it is the sacred mandate of the wranglers to revisit, recall and relapse. To try and make some semblance of lucid order in an ever changing environment of pounding chaos. is it too soon? What is the statute of limitations for self mutilation?

Fool’s Engagement Timeline Diary:

(The notes have been complied from multiple accounts. Omissions have been made in cases where illegible.)

Wednesday 3:14pm: Maso, Spacebug and Mott Guilty showed up early to set up the Kamp Happiness pavilion and recreation area. The field in the primitive camping area was vacant and open but that would quickly change as every manner of gilded freak pulled in with their vehicles and gear turning the space into a Pan’s Labyrinth of jumbled tents and lights. Paradise for the initiated.

Thursday 9:00am: Baitbucket had been up since dawn. His open air tent had failed to keep out the chill and the groundscore air mattress had been leaking air and now resembled a bloated misshapen Portuguese man-o-war. Clint gave him a golf cart ride to his shift at the front gate just in time to throw up on Noah’s shoes. It’s hard to find good help down in the pocket.

Friday 8:00am: Kicked off as always with Floozies for breakfast straight into Matt’s electric swing. Day fires and mushroom brunch specials would keep things kicking. (Ed. note–“Please turn down the music” with three Yoohoos is better than just “Turn down the music.”) Among the many effective negotiating tools when camped up against each other. One can’t encroach on the inviting.

Friday 2:00pm: Blacksheep Troubadour (Taylor Cook) blasted things off at the VIP stage with buckets of foot-stompin’ cracker trash goodness in the afternoon sun. ¡Pura vida! Guavatron and Tropico Blvd. kept things sliding in the right direction and hit sets from Doom Flamingo and Ghost Note closed out the night. Late night camp struggles included wet wood and cases of frozen foot. With bites circumnavigating his nether regions free tick and red bug checks were again pro bono at the KH Annex. What does infected look like? The head is definitely still in there somewhere. Just when you thought it couldn’t get weirder…

“We call it riding the Guaaaavatraaaaaaaaaaain”…

Friday 3:30am: They sat around the fire Friday night trying to play string music but it seemed as though a monstrous spacecraft was landing directly in the middle of the camp. Like the mother ship at the end of Close Encounters. He squeezed his eyes closed but it failed to offer any respite. The booming sounds and pulsating lights nonetheless found their way into his brain hole. And Billy’s lasers only made the scene more otherworldly. They seemed to be everywhere but it didn’t make it any easier figuring out where you were or where you were going. Some who wander are completely lost. At least the sunglasses were still bedazzled with thick strips of plastic rhinestones. With swollen legs and a head full of DMT, Pat walked around in circles until sores grew on his feet. He’d been lost for two hours in what he coined, “A prison for Muppets.” There really are no words to describe the spectacular scene. You must please find a way to accept the unbelievable truth.

Friday’s offerings included slickery sick sets from Jessica Jones, Grindstone Sinners, Chachuba, Cope, Russ Liquid, Ghost Note, and a Sunsquabi set that left many in the assemblage with permanent stink face. Lo siento policia, if it’s too loud you’re too old.

Saturday 4:00pm: Trinket’s VIP Dance Party descended on Free Range Strange‘s afternoon set filled with hard folk, chemical bluegrass and greasy rock. Hippies lounged in the sun and bounced with joy to the slick vocals of the impeccably wondrous Sunnie Ray and Tim’s unapologetic guitar shreddings. The river rats enjoyed the show from the Sante Fe and extra chlorine was called in for the Royalty basking in the nearby hot tub

Later the guys from Joy Wagon crushed the River Stage and laid down a dance party that set the bar for the rest of the night’s camp fire jams. Baitbucket reportedly donned a mop wig and scoured the campground trading angry handjobs for drugs.

But really, who can remember?

Saturday 1:00am: Recent innovations in Nailtravels security protocols have mandated that future events will include increased frisking, black light crystal charger rave lights (thanks Tim) and Caribbean security gate limbo party into the venue. New height requirements for spectators includes a truly new low bar down into the Florida dirt. Thanks to Erin for her assistance with the limbo trash bag and potentially irate boyfriends. You must be this tall to ride this ride.

Kamp Happiness Schedule of Events

• 6:00am:  Car Alarm Bingo- Audience participation encouraged
• 5:00pm: Face painting- nonhypoallergenic to be sure
• 6:00pm: Chinese Acupressure with Moebius
• 9:00pm: Accordion Clinic- In only two hours you can go from lackluster to mediocre. Pick from one of several styles and models and lose your ego today.
• 1:30am: Erin’s Power Hour- Helen Keller and the No-Seeums
• 3:00am: Family Jam (Thanks to Jeremy, Colin, Taylor, Tim and Sunnie)
• 5:00am: Josh’s Story Time (Sponsored by Pedialyte)-“Florida legends and other complete horse shit”
• 6:00am: Easter sunrise show- Two sets of Zach’s free style and lukewarm mimosas with dirt and ash rim

“It’s all yes from here on out.”

Saturday 3:30am: So hoarse he could only manage a graveled hiss, Mott Guilty had been reduced to using a makes shift type of sign language. He’d pulled ahead of Baitbucket in the fourth quarter to win the “Sunshine Award”. He’d recently lost his third eye. It had fallen off somewhere in the dirt and not sure if it was evolution or a significant step backwards, he suspected whomsoever groundscored it would immediately be a woke wook. When being fingerprinted, remember to be aware of cop comedians tricking you into touching your eyebrows. Some things aren’t funny.

“Bought a ticket, might as well see the show”

Thanks to Bus Stop, Dragon and the rest of the trash crew for their hard work and fellowship. Thanks to Tom, Noah, Clint, Terry, Ginny, Naomi and the rest of the organizers, staff and volunteers. Visit the Get Lawst Entertainment page. Thank you Zach, Emily and everyone else that contributed photographs. “Get in the kitchen and make me breakfast.”

The mountain has to come to Mohammed. It’s not easy being clever all the time but that’s why God made guitars. This whole thing just might be dumb enough to work. Stick around.

Stay tuned for The Spring Road Part 3: Suwannee Rising and keep following the wook wranglers as we grab a nap and a shower on the high road to Orange Blossom Jamboree where we smash back into the meat of the Buttscratchers. Visit The Spring Road Part 1 and check out the wranglers Facebook site and our other platforms at nailtravels Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.                                         #freebritneybitch