The Swaying Sarah

The Swaying Sarah
The Swaying Sarah / bbernard/Shutterstock.com

Alex got out of the taxi in the parking lot, and the humid air hit him in the face like a hot, breaking wave. In the distance, he could see the stage lights dancing in the sky, and even this far from the main stage, a steady bass rhythm drifted towards him, perhaps carried this far only because of the moisture in the air. People all around him were unpacking cars, changing into costumes, and taking swigs from bottles of all shapes and sizes. There was a buzz in the air, and that was exactly what Alex had come for: the Great Annual Gap Fest.

He paid the taxi driver and set off towards the throbbing beat of the music, immersed in the crowd of revelers. Though he had come alone, the beers in his backpack were reassuringly heavy, and he was enjoying eavesdropping on the strangers’ conversations around him as he walked. He had been looking forward to this weekend for months, eager to immerse himself in the vibrant energy of the crowds and the music. Though he had never been before, he had heard lots about this legendary festival. Moreover, his therapist suggested he go out and try new things.

“Gaming online every weekend is not great for your well-being, Alex,” his therapist’s voice rang in his ears as he walked. “Besides, do you really want another gamer-girlfriend to do the customary six months with before you realize you share nothing in common except Counterstrike?”

It was true – his last three failed relationships had all been with fellow gamers whom he had either met online or through other gamer friends. Perhaps it was time for something new after all.

Once through the gate and security check, he pulled off the main pathway, unzipped his backpack, and pulled out an ice-cold beer. Cracking it open, he practically downed half of it, feeling the cool, refreshing liquid coat inside his throat and then his stomach. There were times when beer tasted okay, and times when it just tasted great; now was one of the latter moments.

Invigorated, he moved on, feeling a little looser and letting the music dictate the way he moved through the swaying crowd.

“Are you ready to partaaaaaaay?” the band's lead singer roared over the microphone, before slamming down in a well-rehearsed split in time with the drummer’s opening smash on the snare.

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