McGraw 3

Carolyn McGraw

Professor Kemp

English 10 GT

30 March 2007

Furia Festival

Drizzles left Cergy yucky, wet and miserable. The small town sat quietly, except for a park in Mery-Sur-Oise, France. Three stages blasted music to three audiences, including my friends. I found them huddled in a group on the outskirts of a group of dreadlocked French teenagers. I grabbed Kelly and Dylan, who in turn grabbed Phil and Sally, and pushed towards the center of the pack. The quiet kids we left behind had to cope with the new experience alone.

On our journey to the center of the earth, I noticed the mud from the rain was getting deeper and slicker, downtrodden upon for hours now. I looked down and saw my chocolate dipped pants. “Oh well,” I said to myself, and returned jumping and moving to the music of the band of cross dressers on stage.

The smell of marijuana hung in the moist, cool air, and on the people around us, thankfully not ourselves. The song changed, and five bulky punk kids to my right started dancing together. I didn’t notice that much, but suddenly, without warning, the short blonde man next to me grabbed my waist. I was in a dorky can-can line dance with several huge French teenagers. I laughed, and started kicking with them. I put my arm around the smelly, wet stranger’s shoulder, and grabbed Dylan to start doing it as well.

By now, a huge row of enthusiastic can-canners were methodically dancing to Marcel’s upbeat song. Then the French guy in front of me grabbed the shoulders of the girl in front of him, and they started moving in a train through the crowd. Keeping in the spirit, I tagged along, Dylan right behind me. Our snake slithered excitedly through the large crowd, until we finally exited and parted ways.

The misty rain still kept our group wet, and everyone huddled under one another’s umbrellas and watched drunken men throw themselves down the hill of mud. Growing tired, we crossed to another stage. The mud pits, and slick spots slowed our expedition. When we arrived, to my excitement, the one band I recognized earlier from the playbill was on stage performing! Editors, an alternative band from England graced the stage when we arrived, playing a short comic song about Dick Cheney. The audience was small, so I got up to the front, and began taking pictures. My favorite pictures of the whole trip were of that day, particularly of Editors and their lighting effects. Red, yellow, and white lights illuminated the stage like a row of string lights at an outdoor party. Even in the rain the band on stage looked spectacular. Most of the French in the audience didn’t understand Editors’ English, but I did and I smiled to myself.

I sang and danced to what I knew, and clicked away on my sleek digital camera. They finished their set, and I sadly headed out of the park with Kelly, Fiona and Marion. “We’re a mess,” Kelly said, stating the obvious. I looked down, and laughed at our pathetic pants, covered in heavy mud. My first French concert and I looked like a house damaged by a mudslide.