A dispatch from a survivor of the doomed spectacle
When they left us here they said they’d be back soon. It was me and Eddie from marketing plus Bradenton, the intern. We were ready to knock out some advance planning then party all night like rock stars.
We looked around for the office trailer and quickly realized we were on the wrong island. It was only maybe five acres. There were no signs of human habitation or drinking water. No wifi or Verizon coverage. The nearest land mass was a tiny speck on the horizon. We started freaking out.
All we had was a bunch of mini Cliff Bars, an ounce of Hollywood Kush and a bottle of Cuervo. Eddie, who is a total maniac, said we might as well pound the Cuervo because obviously they’d realize their mistake and circle back to retrieve us in a few hours, so why not make it into a fun little party while we wait?
We woke up the next morning severely dehydrated. Bradenton, who had been a Boy Scout, figured out that if you smash up the roots of this one scraggly tree with the prongs from his phone charger, you could suck moisture out of the pulp. This is how we spent the first day.
Eddie died on day four. He just kinda shook for a few minutes then made this spooky wheezing noise. Turns out he had some heart condition he never told us about. We went through his laptop bag and found a bunch of pill bottles, most of which were empty. We divvied up the last of his Xanax.
Bradenton took it the hardest, which was weird because he and Eddie never really got along—Eddie used to call him “bitch-boy” and make fun of his haircut and weak chin.
Eventually Bradenton became sort of catatonic. He’d sit on this one rock and stare out over the ocean, swaying back and forth for hours on end. He wouldn’t even budge when it was his turn to suck on the root-pulp. I started to get worried.
In order to keep his head in the game I made shit up. I’d tell him that this was all just a test Ja Rule had put in our path to determine whether we were worthy of ascending to Legendary status. I painted a vivid word-picture of all the hot women, drugs and exclusive cabana parties we’d enjoy once we proved ourselves deserving of Ja’s blessing.
This eventually snapped him out of it and I put him to work setting up makeshift festival grounds, just to keep him focused. We laid out pieces of driftwood to delineate the VIP, Platinum VIP and Triple Diamond VIP tiers closest to the “stage,” a low mesa of sand. We dug holes for Jacuzzis and built makeshift “brand activation booths.” Bradenton even came up with the idea of a “cooldown tent,” a canopy of palm fronds that drizzled refreshing seawater from Eddie’s laptop bag poked full of holes. It was actually starting to look pretty dope. I’d like to think Eddie would be proud of the work we did carrying on his legacy.
Then one morning I awoke to find Bradenton had disappeared. I looked all over the island for him, which didn’t take long. I can only assume he set out at first light swimming for that dot on the horizon. I can’t imagine he got too far with all the sharks. God bless him.
Now it’s just me, stranded in the middle of the Caribbean, alone. I’m not too sure how much longer I’ll make it; the Cliff Bars are long gone and I’ve been living off pulp-water and these tiny berries that grow by the Monster Energy Drink™ booth Bradenton built.
Mostly I just sit on his favorite rock, envisioning the rescue that’s sure to take place any day. I’ll spot a yacht in the distance, and as it gets closer I’ll be able to make out Ja Rule and Kendall Jenner and a slew of other Instagram bikini models and hot-shit influencers clinking champagne glasses and lighting up blunts. As I swim out to them and climb the ladder to the deck, I will have truly ascended to Legendary status.
I haven’t given up hope. Ja would never abandon one so devoted as me, who truly believes in his vision of an immersive music festival experience on the boundaries of the impossible. He’ll give me a fist bump, pass the blunt and introduce me to Emily Ratajkowski.
It could happen. Hopefully very, very soon. I have faith in Ja.
But you wanna know the worst part of this whole debacle? I’m missing out on the hottest music festival of 2017!