there’s a rave at a high school, and some announcement saying that there will be no bag checking because it’s a rave and not a ________??!?!?! there are a large amount of dressed up raver kids and two tiers of ticketing, apparently.
we go to a foldout tent under a white canopy to purchase the second tier of our tickets. they are supposed to be physical tickets that cost $10. the whole ticket is supposed to be $15, because apparently we have $5 wristbands on, although i don’t actually remember purchasing the wristbands.
the girls manning the canopy are being shady as fuck, and they’re trying to rip people off. i know for a fact, i guess, that the tickets are supposed to cost no more than $15. they’re trying to charge us fluctuating amounts over $15, the last one being $16. it was only $1 more but i still refused because i knew that it was wrong.
they are taking forever to give us the correct price so i turn around to the guy and girl behind us and say sorry. the girl looks like ashley story.
some lady, sitting on a chair, mumbles in the background that the total will be $180 for the two of us. i respond by saying, “$180 is for like, a million tickets.”
the people behind us snicker and the shady ticketers finally offer us $15 for each of our tickets. the workers are now telling each other that, “now you have to make your own tips,” because apparently they were taking the extra money and pocketing it before. the people behind us are excited and say that yay, they now have an extra $2.60 to spend or whatever.
so, i guess i had put my stuff in a locker or something and now they’re giving it to me. there’s a black jacket, which i grab first. then my camera bag is on the table, and luckily i saw it, and as i pick it up, the blue helly hansen jacket i have is also attached to it (i always tie my jackets onto my bags). but then i decide that other than the camera bag, i don’t want to carry this shit around. so i need to put it back in a locker.
rachel goes inside to find a locker or something.
inside, my bags disappear and i walk up (or down) a set of these cooly textured stairs that look like they have wallpaper texture on them. i read some poem… maybe i find it on the ground… written by rachel, and it is pretty cool but sounds a lot like a poem i think i’d write, but a lot darker. i don’t remember much other than that there is a line talking about popes and sexual misconduct in a sarcastic way, and it ends with “, pope.”