Your favourite party reporters in the biz have made it through night one at Belgium’s most infamous music festival. In the course of this deceptively short night, some sunglasses and mild sedatives were lost, found and finally lost again, stomachs were suddenly and violently emptied in front of innocent onlookers, and unsuspecting party-goers tasted the bitter fruits of our depraved sense of humour. Of course, this all took place after we had completed our two-hour road trip, being spared an extra one-hour police run-through of our vehicles thanks to our delinquent GPS-system. It seems that the “anything goes” reputation of the festival is finally catching up with it: we’ve even seen police officers patrolling in the field, booted & suited up and ready to crack skulls. This explains why several people so far have approached the POSTRboys with questions regarding the availability of controlled substances of all kinds. Our answer to these people: we don’t swing that way, and even if we did, which we don’t, we wouldn’t share anything with you, because even if we did do what we already told you we don’t, we would probably have just enough for ourselves. Go ask some Rasta-headed white guy in purple dungarees and goatskin sandals for your fix. Dude.
Right now, we’re sitting in the festival’s well-lit press area, enjoying the finer things in life such as electricity, running water and some wireless internets. Yes, life can definitely be sweet if you have a security level 5 wristband and are willing to push your luck to its outer limits. So far, we would like to give some special shout-outs to Atilla the parking area superintendant, everybody who let us pass through an area we weren’t supposed to be in. Oh, and the two girls from Holland who told us they didn’t do drugs but compensated for that flaw by having sex with whoever wanted to. Who we hope to see again tonight.