In a perfect world, we would be stuffed together in plastic tents under the hot sun, breathing in the dust, absorbing the music. We would gorge on carnie food, smoke dope, snort coke, eat mushrooms, ecstasy, and acid, hydrating with cans of beer. We would strip down to birthday suits +1, meet sexy strange lovers and copulate in the moonlight. We would purchase and consume and toss the containers as if the Earth herself were hungry for more garbage. We would band together into loose-knit tribes, wandering mile upon mile, day after day, an endless parade of ogling eyes and perked ears searching ...