A first timer’s incredible mushy Post-Scotch review
I had a very bad feeling about Hopscotch in the weeks leading up to the event. After months of anticipation, planning, pressuring my friends into buying wristbands, it was almost here, and I was scared. Not of losing my friends every night, having my phone die before 10pm the first night, walking from Fletcher Opera House to Slim’s in the pouring rain, or getting lost in a parking deck for what felt like half an hour; I was scared of the weekend not living up to my high expectations. I had built up the festival so much that I couldn’t shake this feeling that I would walk away from the event disappointed. I had never been to a music festival before and, although everyone who had been to Hopscotch in the past told me about the great time they had, I couldn’t imagine it.
I can say with confidence, however, that Hopscotch was one of the best weekends of my life.
I could list all the amazing artists I saw – day parties included – but those obviously change every year. There are things that won’t change though. The connection you feel with everyone around you, knowing you’re all there on the same mission. The strange comfort you find in the overall chaos of the operation. The forgotten, perfected schedules and sudden urges to be spontaneous. The shows you never thought you’d end up at, which turn out the be the best of the night. The intimate conversations you’ll have with people you’ll never see again.
Hopscotch had me dancing until 2 am every night, almost losing my life in a few moshpits, and falling in love in one crazy, enigmatic weekend and I absolutely cannot wait for next year.
My wristband is starting to get pretty gross, but I don’t have the heart to cut it off just yet.