Who won our Mushy Contest and two tickets to Paul Oakenfold!
Courtesy of Bobby DaSilva
We’ve read and cherished the many stories submitted about your favourite concert experiences. But Justin’s tale of hippies, glow sticks, and complete debauchery on Toronto Island topped the list. Here it is as promised, our winner’s story:
“I met my friends Katherine and Jean Luc at the arrivals platform at Union station on an overcast September afternoon. We were all super pumped having recently scored tickets for the 2008 Virgin Fest on Toronto Island. Kate and Jean Luc, both lifetime Montréal urbanites, had never been to the islands, and my experience had been limited to socially awkward childhood trips to the Centre Island amusement park with my parents and Ritalin addicted younger brother.
The plan – which quickly became a moot point – was to arrive early at the ferry docs on Saturday morning, totally immerse ourselves in the awesome sounds of the Foo Fighters and MGMT (Electric Feel had been the most played song on my iTunes list that summer), return home, get a good nights sleep, then go even harder the next day and have our ears blasted with Oasis. That was the plan – now here’s what happened:
Our jaws dropped as we surfaced from the Ferry doc street car station, the lineup was around the corner and down the block. The three of us knew this was going to be a big event. While in line, we chatted up some people, all super chill and excited to be attending the concert. After what seemed like a never ending journey, we landed on the island, cleared security and looked for a place to hunker down and enjoy the show. No less than 30 minutes after settling down, Kate disappeared and for the next several hours she was no where to be found. Cell not on, and no way of finding her in the mass of people, Jean Luc and I decided to mellow and enjoyed the show. Then, much later, as MGMT was starting in with Electric Feel, with the crowd on its feet, people cheering, water bottles erupting and everything that could be safely tossed in the air, bouncing around; I felt a razor like pain shoot down my back. Within half a second I realized ice was being poured down my shirt and when I turned around, I was looking at Kate straight into her half opened bloodshot eyes. After the song, she got Jean Luc and I to take ‘a little walk’ and we were ready for the rest of the night to unfold.
After night one of the concert, I began to mentally prepare for the pilgrimage home, but as it turned out Kate had already made other plans for the three of us. She steered us away from throngs of people heading towards the Harlan’s Point docs and lead us for a few kms down the road past the main island to what I later learned was Snake island. What I saw next was a bit of a mind bomb. In the centre of a clearing with an amazing view of the skyline was a hodgepodge of people; every style from the A&F model look-a-likes to the beeswax dreads, tie-dyed T-shirt hippie. There were some small fires burning – small due to concerns of drawing the attention of the police for overnight camping (a no-no on the island). Looking around I say a few people strumming on guitars while others banged sticks on metal water canteens and even a few hand-drum thumps vibrated my chest cavity. Even though the fires were small, there was big time energy, an after a night of nipping at my concealed stash of Grey Goose, everything took on a life of its own, it was as if we stumbled into a hedonistic euphoria.
Courtesy of Bobby DaSilva
As the night went on, a moment of sobriety dawned on me when I realized that the ferry’s don’t run all night and we’d have to fork out cash for the water taxi. By the time I had managed to slur out my concerns to Jean-Luc (as Kate was MIA again) Jean immediately informed me that he was having the time of his life and his Frenchy French name and accent was working wonders for his chances of ‘making friends’ with a guitar playing mademoiselle. My worries still unresolved, I took a seat on a tree stump and let my eyes adjust to the darkness away from the fires. I looked up and saw more stars than what I could ever imagine to see from my downtown loft. Just as I began to soak in the solitude and reflection, I looked over to where we entered the impromptu drum circle and saw white beams of light cutting the darkness like machetes. “COPS!!” and before I could spin around to look back at the party, I could hear buckets of water sizzling and popping as they were pored over the fires. The crowd dispersed into the trees and I followed suit, just hoping my urban street light acclimatized eyes wouldn’t fail me. After a few missteps and pawing my way though what were the thickest spider webs I have ever encountered, I spun myself around a thick tree trunk and got as low to the ground as I could. I was stunned to realize that I was in the midst of other revelers, with only their heaving breathing as their give away.
After the cops finally gave up, the crowd grew antsy and as a collective it was deemed safe enough to return. Just as I stood up, I felt a scratch along my back; the unmistakable manicured nails of Kate were running up my back. We both embarrassed ourselves with a flood of emotion as if we had been separated since birth. After we calmed down and made our way back the party area, I reiterated my travel concerns to Kate. She told me get a watch as it was nearly 4am and we were here for the night. Kate informed me that she landed an invite for herself and her two amigos in a tent with some newly made friends. I was drunk, tired and more than happy to accept the hospitality. So without much delay we did a quick and futile search for Jean Luc and the two of us made our way to the tent. As I poked my head into a monstrously oversized tent, it was a sea of people, and I was blown away for the second time in the night as I noticed that someone took the time to craftily string up dark orange and red glow sticks all over the ceiling area. People were batting them around like kittens with a ball a string, and I soon found myself doing the same and drunkenly declared that glow sticks on a string as just as entertaining as any Playstation. I was drunk after all. The tent was the apex of intimacy, from what I could see, there were 9 people crammed inside, and the combined body heat and booze negated the need blankets, just a few hoodies underneath to make things softer.
Courtesy of Bobby DaSilva
A few hours later it was daylight, I could hear a familiar French accent calling Kate and my name and I quickly remembered that Jean Luc was not in the head count last night, but confirmed that he had successfuly secured his own place for the night, along with a mischievous grinning from ear-to-ear. We all shook off the cricks in our necks and random tenderness from knees and feet poking our bods and made our way to Centre Island to chow down on some food and re-hydrate. I checked my phone and read a txt from my buddy who didn’t manage to connect with me on the first night. He was on his way back for day two, so I gave him a shout, made some small talk and managed to persuaded him to pick-up some more booze for me and my impromptu camping pals. Day two was already lined-up for us. We rocked out to Oasis, and afterwards we took the ferry home, showered up at my place then hit up 7West for some well earned after party snackables. Me and my Montreal friends declared this our fav party and adventure of the summer. While dropping off Kate and Luc at the train station the following day, I told them jokingly that I hope their Olympic Island could one day hope to offer us anything as close to the fun we had on TO island.”
– The Cowgirls.
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