Billy Berue & Connie Bigslob 4-Eva

Billy Berue & Connie Bigslob 4-Eva

I call my wife Connie Bigslob. Connie Bigs, or CBS for short. Not behind her back, but straight to her adorable face. I don’t do it out of spite or because I’m a dick, although I’m kind of a dick. It’s also not because she’s a big slob.
Connie Bigslob is actually an anagram of Nicole Gibbons. She goes by Nicole McMorrow now, but I bestowed this nickname upon her a long time ago. Back when she still used her maiden name and thought she had more than enough time to do better than me. Before she decided to settle for less, if you will. Which I really hope you won’t. That’s a horrible thing to say to a person.

So don’t think I mean it in a derogatory fashion, because it is a loving term of endearment. I also call her Muffinstumps and Banana Bread Head, but that isn’t germane to this story.

Man, how does a grown boy get so tired?

Well if you’ve been following along with Part One and Part Two of this story, you have a basic idea. I’m exhausted just writing about it. I still can’t fully believe we lived through it.

Day Two of Sasquatch started like any other day. I opened my eyes, and quietly congratulated myself on not dying in my sleep. I don’t want to say that makes me a hero, but that’s kind of what heroes do, right? Not die from an aneurysm during nap time? Alright, so I’m kind of a hero, whatever. That’s not even the point of the story.

Holiday Inn Express in Wenatchee, WA

Holiday Inn Express in Wenatchee, WA

We went down to the lobby to score another delicious free breakfast, compliments of the Holiday Inn Express. I brought a tape measure to figure out the dimensions of the pancake machine I hoped to abscond with at some point during our stay. Connie Bigs always likes to know the logistics of any heist that I ask her to pull off with me, before I yell, “Go Time!!”. It’s a professional move that all the top-notch grifters in the high stakes world of culinary capers do, and my baby lady is the tippiest-toppest of notches.

But when we arrived at the breakfast area it was jam-packed with people, much to our chagrin. Not only were there a lot of people there, some of those people were children. Yeah, I know, right? Obviously we were like, “What the fuck is going on here?”. Apparently “the fuck” that was going on was a big softball tournament. We went to the front desk and demanded to speak to the manager. When he came out of his lair, I asked him if it was hotel policy to allow children into the building. He said that there were rules expressly forbidding pets, weapons, and smoking, but nothing about children not being allowed on the property. I then asked him if he was sure.

He was.

I did get him to concede the fact that children are an insurance liability due to their constant inability to not do dumb shit all the time. Or maybe I’m making that up. Either way, he wouldn’t tell them all to take a fuckin’ hike for us, so we had to actually eat amongst them. With their giggles, cherubic faces and sunny dispositions. It was absolutely disgusting.

I don't know if they were running together or if the purple people eater was chasing this guy. But I never saw him again. So he's probably dead.

I don’t know if they were running together or if the purple people eater was chasing this guy. But I never saw him again. So he’s probably dead.

The gates opened at noon for the last three days of the festival. We decided that we were just going to go for some comedy shows that we wanted to see. Nancy and Beth, which is a musical duo with actresses Megan Mullally and Stephanie Hunt. We also wanted to see Kyle Kinane and Nick Offerman do some stand up comedy. Three, maybe four hours tops. We planned to be there all day on Sunday and Monday, so an early Saturday sounded perfect after a late Friday. Listen, I’m forty-something, not twenty-nothing. I need my rest sometimes. We headed out from the hotel around two o’clock under cloudy skies.

By the time we had reached The Gorge it had become bright and sunny. We really lucked out with the weather. I heard that it was cold and rainy pretty much all weekend at home. But it was sunny almost the whole time at Sasquatch. Which works out good, because I like to get a nice tan going before I get horrifically sunburned. Even with multiple liberal applications of SPF-Irish, I still have a tendency to turn a nice shade of ouch.

When we arrived for day two, we were pleasantly surprised to find no traffic. We pulled right into Day Parking and high-fived each other like cool people are prone to do. Uncool people sometimes high-five each other too. We are definitely among the former and not the latter, though. I think. We made the six-minute walk down to the entrance and Day two was officially underway. One of the best things about a music festival, besides all the music, is watching all the people. The weird people, the drunk people, the weird drunk people. All of them.

This dude knows what's up

This dude knows what’s up

The worst part is, with five stages going at once, you are bound to miss some good bands. Which happened to us a few times during the weekend. That’s the nature of the music festival business. You can’t see them all. So sometimes you have to just accept the things you cannot change, and have the courage to listen to the bands you do not know. Like it says in the bible. Not that bible, the other one.

We went to Customer Service for the VIP platform bracelets, and unlike the first day, they were there this time. We made small talk with the same girls that helped us before and then headed to the Yeti stage to check out Nancy and Beth. If you ever get the chance to see them live, I would strongly recommend that you do. They did a great version of the George Jones classic He Stopped Loving Her Today, as well as a sick cover of Riskay’s Country Club Classic Smell Yo Dick I totally had to Google that.
Unfortunately my arms get tired due to my advanced age and I can’t hold my iPhone up for more than 53 seconds at a time. If I could, I would have continued filming and you would have seen Nick Offerman, who is married to Megan Mullally, come out and do the rap at the end of the song. I can’t remember how it goes exactly, but I think it was something like, “No, you can’t smell my dick, bitch”. But that’s just an educated guess.
They put on a really good show. Great voices and very funny between song, and mid song, banter.
This dude was actually dancing around next to us during their set, so I decided to record him. I’m glad I did, because just watching him makes me giggle. Good memories.
After their set we headed over to the El Chupacabra tent for the stand up shows. We got there about five minutes before Kyle Kinane took the stage. He came out on stage and opened with, “How the fuck are you Coachella? You want to know how to piss off a shitload of nerds at one time? Fuck up the name of their music festival!” Then he spent ten minutes ripping on all the freaks there. He was fucking great. He did a solid fifty minutes and killed it. As he was winding down his set, the tent quickly filled up for Nick Offerman. Beloved by legions of fans for his portrayal of Ron Swanson on the NBC show Parks & Recreation, he drew a huge crowd.

Shortly before he took the stage, a younger boy right in front of us fired up a blunt, just like Snoop Doggy Dogg Lion y would have done. Now, the good people of Washington state voted to legalize the recreational use of marijuana last November, along with the level-headed residents of Colorado. So people were smoking reefer weeds all over the place at The Gorge with no fuckin’ hassles from the man. That’s the way America should be. It is absolutely insane that we lock people up for smoking marijuana in a place we call “The Land of the Free”. Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?

But I can drink my face off at a bar and get behind the wheel of a car and kill a family of five? Hypothetically speaking. I have never actually done that. The killing people part. Driving drunk? Sure, I used to do that occasionally. every single night, back in my younger days.

Ron Fucking Swanson

Ron Fucking Swanson

Lil’ Snoop turned around to us and said something along the lines of, “Would you two like to partake in my time-honored. religiously accepted, and voter approved peace-offering?”, or maybe it was, “Want some?”.

Not wanting to come off as a couple of troglodytes , we graciously accepted. After a couple of rips off of the goods, we settled in for some comedy.

But then it happened. I got wigged out. The crowd around us was packing in and there wasn’t much maneuvering room. It was hot and I had wicked bad cottonmouth, dude. I made a comment to Connie Bigs that if the crowd started crushing forward, she should jump over the barricade and save herself, don’t worry about me.

Of course that comment did not have the intended effect, or maybe it did. I don’t know. I was fuckin’ high. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the people that got crushed to death at The Who concert that time. Naturally, she started getting freaked out too. She told me later that she kept thinking, “Is that gonna happen? It’s a comedy show, not a rock concert. How am I going to get over the barricade? Can I make it over the barricade? What the fuck. Bill?!!”

About ten minutes into Nick Offerman’s set, she turned to me and said, “I think I need to leave.”

I looked around at the sea of people and said, “I don’t think we can get out right now. Are you okay?”

She confirmed to me that she wasn’t okay by any stretch of the imagination, and she really needed to get out of the tent post-haste. So I turned around, took the love of my life by the hand, lowered my head, and big boy shoulder pushed our way out to the welcoming whoosh of fresh air.

"Coming through!!"

“Coming through!!”

We sat on the grass outside the tent and CBS wasn’t looking good. I said, “Do you think that younger boy slipped us some PCP in that blunt?” She gave me a weak chuckle, so at least she was trying. A for effort, Bigs!

I told her to sit right there and I would go get something to drink. I ran over to one of the vendors and got two bottles of water. The girl wouldn’t let me have the caps to the bottles, due to venue policy. I understand that it must suck to have to clean up all those bottle caps, but try running with two open bottles of water through crowds of people when you may or may no be fucked up on PCP. It’s an athletic endeavor.

When I returned to Connie Bigs with the water she drank some and still didn’t feel that great. She said she felt like an asshole walking out during the show. I said, “Who gives a shit? We’re still here, we can still hear him. Lets just sit on the grass, listen to some comedy, and trip chill the fuck out.”

So that’s what we did, and it was excellent. After about fifteen minutes, Connie said she was cold. I said that it may be because we were sitting directly in the shade from the port-a-potties. We laughed at that for a while. It’s good to laugh. Everything was better. Connie Bigs said something about maybe not telling people about what big pussies we were. I told her that I was totally writing about it. She said, “Oh, you definitely have to”, and so I did.

We watched the end of Nick Offerman’s show from outside of the tent. Nancy and Beth joined him onstage for a mashup of Hits From The Bong and Son Of A Preacher Man. It was fantastic. We hung out for another hour or so and then headed back out to the parking lot. We chilled out at the car for about half of an hour or so, taking in the scenery, smoking butts, and cracking each other up. We do that a lot. That’s why Connie Bigslob is my sweet beautiful baby lady.

We left early enough to drive back to Wenatchee in the daylight. During sunset actually. It was phenomenal. I have never felt so small and insignificant in my entire life as I did on the drive to and from The Gorge Amphitheatre. It is incredibly beautiful in the daylight, unbelievably breathtaking at sunset, and absolutely fucking terrifying in the dead of night.

Up Next. Part IV: Welcome Back My Friends To The Show That Never Ends

21 responses »

  1. Ron Fucking Swanson! I am way envious.

    Do you think there’s a possibility at some point in our lives we get too old for pot? The last time I smoked (which was a LONG time ago, probably 10 years ago or something) it’d been a while since I’d had any, and holy hell did I get weirded out and paranoid. I was afraid to say anything to anyone because I was SURE I was going to come across as a total jackass. When did it go from happy drug that made me want to eat all the Chinese food to evil drug that makes me scared I’m a dummy? I haven’t had any since because now it makes me suspicious and I give it a dirty look like it’s a betrayer.

    • I totally think that people can get to that point. But that’s not me. I love weed. It is my vice of choice. I used to be quite the drinker back in my teens and twenties, but alcohol and I are in a very different relationship now. Maybe 5 or 6 times a year I will drink. I would rather smoke than drink 100% of the time. I think just the mix of heat, the thirst and the claustrophobia combined to freak us the fuck out. But I would do it again in a heartbeat.
      And Ron Swanson is the fucking bomb!

  2. Animockery says:

    Love that photo of the guy and the monster. I am almost certain he is being chased to his death. Next time I see a purple monster with a bloated stomach and a hungry glint in his eye I will turn and run, hopefully faster than the last guy.

  3. Excellent little series you’ve got going on. I’m living vicariously through it. Weed freak outs and all, I love it!

    • Thank you very much, my friend. I can’t believe I still have three days to write about. My posts usually run in the 1000 – 1200 word range, but this one hit over 2200, and I haven’t even got to the best stuff yet. I’m so wordy. Hahaha!

  4. I think I was high. Hahaha

  5. tracy fulks says:

    OK, dude. First of all, thanks for the dancing circus freak vid, I felt like I was back on Dead tour, I probably dropped acid with him in ’89 and improvisational danced with him for 8 hours for all I know. But that’s just a guess, albeit and educated one.

    I love your wife. I completely felt her wigging the fuck out in that tent, I have so been there. Anyone that’s ever gotten waayyyyy higher than they bargained for has been there. The loopy conversation in the shade of the port o potty’s is the stuff dreams are made of, when things go from freaked out to giddy and then eventually relaxed, and then exhausted.

    Epic sagas are a bitch to write before you just burn out on it, but then once it’s there, you’ve captured it for all eternity, even when the reefer smoke has clouded all of the details away years from now and all you can remember is “a plateau” and “PCP” and “pancake machine”


    • Every time I watch the dancing guy. I crack up. I’m so glad I recorded him. It got pretty fucking real inside that tent, and I am a man that can handle his reefer weeds. It’s what I do It was a perfect storm of tired, thirsty, hot and cramped. And wicked fucking high. But I’m so glad it happened, because we will laugh about it forever. It was the best once the freak out mellowed. It was the water that did it. Dehydration is a motherfucker. Then we looked around at the glorious place that we were at because of being Grand Prize Winners. It was awesome.
      I have been up til like 4 in the morning for the past week trying to write it all down. It is a bitch. But it’s awesome to have something I really want to write about, as opposed to sitting in front of a blank screen. Because that sucks more.
      Have you experienced the pancake machine? Holy shit! it is a marvel of modern technology. Maybe not wicked modern. But definitely post World War II.

  6. Bill, frankly I thought you’d at least slip a Sigur Ros clip in, just to make the red nosed man happy… um, faux pas?

  7. I’m still just green… so fucking green… And the idea that you had perfect weather, weed, and some of the really great bands, all at the Gorge. Well, Celtic. Love the characters that go. Sometimes I fantasize about what I’d wear… when I go. Burning Man is at the top of my list. In a camper. Dude.

    • It was such a fantastic experience Dawn. The weather was perfect until Monday, and then it was rainy, but not horribly so. The weed was great, although when I remembered Washington voted to legalize, I was hoping there would be coffee shops like in Amsterdam, but alas, no. Someday though. I’d love to go see something at Red Rocks, I think that would be awesome. But I don’t know if I’m ever going to find a place to see a concert more amazing than the Gorge. It is outstanding. Plus the whole atmosphere was very laid back. I don’t remember seeing a single fight all four days of the festival. If they did this at Great Woods, forget about it.

  8. Anonymous says:

    We’ve all been there Connie!! lol.

  9. SocietyRed says:

    Next year those coffee shops will be here, and you will be back; then we will share our mutual favorite vice. I can’t stop laughing or kicking myself for not dropping everything and heading over there. Can’t wait for the next round. You really have a knack for descriptive , funny as fuck writing.
    Thank you for sharing!

  10. I look forward to it John. Thanks a lot for the kind words man. It means a lot to me to know people dig it.

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