Sasquatch Coitus Interruptus
"Thoughts" is a column featuring the author's personal observations about life. This week, Abby Williamson reflects on the most epic moment at the Sasquatch Music Festival.
Abby Williamson
Issue date: 6/2/09 Section: Opinion
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That Saturday night, as the sun was setting over the river, cooling down the venue about 15 degrees, The Decemberists hit the main stage for an hour-long complete set of their newest album, "The Hazards of Love." About halfway through, during "The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid," everyone in the enormous audience glanced to the left and started cheering and waving their fists. I thought to myself, "Um, you guys, they're over there, not up on the hill." For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what the heck everyone was looking at. Just then, my sister saw what was putting the crowd in a tizzy.
"Look, Abby! Up there, by the fence," she shouted.
There were four fences, so her description did me no good. People still cheered, whistled and laughed. I thought, "Oh, it's a streaker."
Nope. My sister, fed up with my wandering eyes, grabbed my head to faced it towards what everyone was looking at.
Lo and behold, a man and woman were up on the cliff, amidst the brush and twigs, naked, having sex. In front of thousands of people. Colin Meloy, the frontman of The Decemberists, even glanced over and snickered at the exhibitionists doing the "dirty-dirty" on the hill. At one point, a security guard walked over to stop them, but just stood there and looked out at the main stage crowd and threw up his fist. Then more cheering ensued. Eventually the guards had to put a stop to the love-making, and when they started putting their clothes on, the crowd started booing - myself included.
Hey, they weren't doing any harm. They were far enough away so that anyone on the ground below could just see the silhouettes of two people thrusting against each other.
Now that's enough to bring anyone back after a moment like that. No way am I missing next year's festival. I'll even camp too.


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