Friday

4:45 p.m. – Arrive at Chilifest amid a C.F. of cars, people and beer.
6:08 p.m. – Manage to singe most of the hair off my right hand as the result of an overeager encounter with lighter fluid.
10:23 p.m. – Witness a drunk attempting to eat a raw hamburger. “It just needs more ketchup.”

Saturday

12:54 a.m. – A girl enters an occupied Port-a-Potty and immediately exits.
3:15 a.m. – Retire to my car for the evening, pumped too full of barley beverages.
9:00 a.m. – Wake up completely confused and stumble out of my car. There is vomit on the door of the car next to me. Is it mine? Signs point to yes.
10:36 a.m. – Someone put a live crawfish in a beer trough. It pinches my finger. Someone else then tears its tail off and attempts to eat it alive.
12:22 p.m. – We attempt to “Stone Cold Steve Austin” two beers. I relearn for the millionth time that I cannot drink anything very fast. Beer gets in my nose.
2:00 p.m. – Witness the bat game (see story for further details). I laugh so hard I’m crying. God, I love dizzy drunks.
3:00 p.m. – Some girl near the stage screams, “Pat Green, I love you!” Some guy yells, “The stage is empty.” Same girl screams, “Bud Light, I love you!”
3:45 p.m. – I bid Chilifest adieu, sunburned and satisfied.