It is about 4pm at the Civic Center Bart Station in San Francisco and there is a long snaky line of people moving two steps at the time, climbing up from the Bart station, screaming in excitement.
The Grove Street is lined up with people on both sides, waiting to meet up with friends, texting, calling, puking.
Down the Grove Street there is a gate with another long line. Security personnel barricades the gate, trying to regulate the flow, letting in people, 20 at the time.
At the end of the gate, there is a cash box. It's $10-dollars to get in this year. I squeeze through with my wings (somehow) and ask the red head "crew" guy at the gate why they are charging this year. "Move along" he tells me, "there is no time for that". He tries to push me to the side. I tell him not to touch me. He complies and proceeds to look right through me. While this is happening I look over and see the cops opening up the side of the gate and letting in a whole river of people, free of charge.
I notice that and ask for a refund. "I'm going to go through that line," I point to free line.
"No refunds!", says the mean "Crew" guy.
I tell him that for a Love Fest crew is not that lovely. He ignores.
I give up the fight and submerge into the Love Fest crowd.
And then I stop and pull to the side to rest. Never-ending currents of people moving in every direction, pushing, elbowing, falling down, getting through.
Spundae stage is impossible to get close to or even pass it by. The density of the people per space would compare to compressed lasagna. Uncomfortable.
Even though I like the music, I leave quickly, barely avoiding getting smashed.
Strong cold wind blows into my face, messes up my wings. People continue to pour in forming the never ending currents, pushing though, stepping on plastic cups and glass bottles. I forget about dancing. I watch other people dance on top of something. I notice the US military truck with people dancing on top of it, especially the guy in the golden jacket. I wonder how old he is…
Almost naked girls are passing by, excited bystanders trying to grab them.
"This is insane!" I yell. People nod in agreement.
"Was it like this last year?"
"No."
It seems like people in San Francisco are hungry for love or entertainment. Or both.
But this year's Love Fest was the wrong place to find it.
I want my refund, still.
