Reflecting on My Neurotic Panic Attack at Firefly 2018, 4 Years Later
The crowds, the noise, and the unfamiliarity were overstimulating, but the worst part was being told my feelings were selfish.
I was having a terrible time after I graduated college. I lost my job, was in a severe car accident, was in a relationship hanging on by a thread, my mom had just suffered a mental breakdown and was in the psych ward, and I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life or how I would use a degree in screenwriting to pay off the tens of thousands of dollars in student loans I’d taken out.
In the middle of this, I went to Firefly Music Festival.
My roommates and I had bought tickets months before after seeing the lineup: The Killers, Arctic Monkeys, Foster the People, Portugal. The Man, MGMT. It would be a great way to celebrate graduation.
Rachel*, my partner, planned on getting a ticket and camping with a group of hometown friends like she did every year. We joined them, got two campsites next to each other, and let Rachel handle the planning.
My friend picked me up the day before the festival, and we made the six-hour drive to Delaware to meet up with Rachel and her friends, pick up enough booze to last us the length…
