Roskilde at Noon
Roskilde Music Festival @ Roskilde, Denmark
July 1–4, 2010 by Lindsay DeLong
I’m there for two minutes and I see a full moon; a girl squatting down relieving herself, in the open. I continue walking, and my sandal squishes in muddy dirt, I take a whiff… more pee.
This is the Roskilde Music Festival in Denmark. Four days of music, and 80,000 peeing Swedes, Norwegians, Danes and me. It is noon.
I see a wedding; a big group wedding. The boys are dressed in pink spandex bike- short tuxedos complete with pink spandex bow ties. The girls are in traditional wedding gowns. With lace. I join the feverish group surrounding the happy couples and grab one of the leaflets being passed around depicting the Danish Wedding Song. I sing at the top of my lungs to compete with the 50 drunk Danes surrounding me. At the end, I raise my fist in the air and cheers their dripping champagne glasses above my head screaming “Skål!” It is noon, but that’s Roskilde.
I walk, and pound a warm beer– warm as in it has never in its entire beer existence been cold. I come across a group of black girls dancing on boxes. I had not yet seen a single black person in Scandinavia and yet, here’s an entire group of them with afros, booty shorts and bras. Soon I notice a trickle of sweat running down the middle of one girls back, leaving a streak of pale white from shoulder to booty short. Then I notice the beer one of the girls is holding, splashing up and out of the can, speckling the girl with her true color. White girls. Painted black. It is noon, but that’s Roskilde.
I stumble upon a one-man fashion show, complete with runway, leading to the mouth of a tent. Just a normal sleeping tent, but painted green: “Kermit the Frog’s Sexy Headquarters” is spray painted over the threshold. And there is Kermit. Well, a naked boy painted green, with a green thing covering his junk. He’s walking sexy and the girls love it. He’s definitely getting action tonight… or wait– a girl grabs him—probably sooner. It is noon, but that’s Roskilde.
I decide to take a swim in the swimming hole because it’s hot. Good thing my outfit is my swimsuit. I unsnap my fanny pack, and scissor jump into the water, and while holding on to the wooden edge of the deck, look up just in time to see a huge swinging penis, dangling like a Christmas ornament right above me. As it’s owner jumps, droplets of water are delivered to my face, exactly like the wedding champagne from before. It is noon, but that’s Roskilde.
I hear music and in a haze, head toward it. Without missing a beat I step over the passed out drunk guy in a duct tape Speedo. But I stop dead in my tracks when I see one of the brides from before. She’s crying. A beautiful blond Danish girl in her beautiful white gown with lace. Her veil stuck to the side of her face with dirt, tears and snot. I stand staring in awe. She must be 16, and already a crying wife. The pink tuxedoed fool must have kissed a bridesmaid, or another bride. I probably should console her, but instead, I squat and pee. It’s noon. It’s Roskilde. Everything happens.
Skål.
