There is only one word to describe a foot race of folkies, all competing to stake land claims in a city park for the sake of strumming guitars and warm vibes. Counterintuitive.
I’m talking about the so-called “Birkenstock 500,” a mad dash of ticket-holders at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival, the three-day annual event held at Jericho Beach Park.
The ritual begins at the east gate, with folkies bearing folding chairs, blankets, tarps and backpacks.
They wait for the signal to navigate a succession of rope barriers and then they’re off in a salt-and-pepper blur of ponytails, cargo pants and knobbly limbs.
The destination is the field before the main stage. The hares invariably get first dibs on the choice spots up close, while the tortoises are consigned to the grassy ‘burbs.
It’s like Saving Private Ryan with plastic wristbands. I’ve done it many times myself.
Folk Fest organizers have made attempts in the past to reign in the crowd, with mixed results. Last year two pacers extended a rope in front of the first wave of folkies, persuading them to power walk instead of run.
Not everyone participating in the Birkenstock 500 is past 50. All the more reason for everyone — young and old, men and women — to observe these eight major Folk Fest Etiquette tips.
- To warm up for the weekend, Folk Fest sprinters should browse through Charles Mackay’s 1841 classic Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds or check out the videos online of Black Friday sales in U.S. Wal-Marts. These are instructional resources on How Adults Should Not Behave in Groups.
- While in the lineup at the gate, do not yell out pleas to Folk Fest volunteers to let yourself, or those around you, free. They are not paid workers and you are not Moses leading your people out of bondage. You are not going to part a Red Sea of runners on your way to the main stage. So put in a natural fibre sock in it and wait politely for the signal.
- Run in an age-appropriate manner, with the awareness you are weighed down with gear. Usain Bolt does not compete in flip flops while carrying his wife’s cooler and beach blanket.
- The little wooden bridge halfway to the main stage is a bottleneck. And we all know what happens with Heinz catsup or Lion’s Gate Bridge at rush hour. Merging is required and this tricky when you are sweatily approaching a narrow pathway at a bifocal-fogging velocity. (Last year organizers helpfully extended a rope barrier at the bridge to prevent the weak ones in the herd from being trampled into folkie pâté.)
- When you get to the main stage field, do not unfold a tarp the size of Chip Wilson’s living room — even if you have made a standing offer to every former and present musician from Broken Social Scene to share the space with you.
- In the event you ignore the fifth tip and unfold a tarp the size of Chip Wilson’s living room, do not get all territorial with folkies who overlap their smaller tarps and blankets with the edges of yours. Think back to the brave Latin American rebels who fought to reclaim peasants’ land from United Fruit Company. And if that doesn’t clue you in, remember you’ve made your geographic statement on unceded Coast Salish territory.
- Do not set up anything higher than a stubby lawn chair, as you will block the sight of those behind you. There could be unpleasant consequences if you breach this unspoken rule. For all you know, that heavily-tattooed, multiply-pierced young couple directly behind you (the ones who look like spiral-bound notebooks with doodles) may be practitioners of chaos magick. You don’t them to put a whammy on you and your Caravan Sports Elite Quad Chair just because you went for an SUV’s-eye view of the main stage.
- Finally, if you later insist on staggering back from the beer garden to your blanket at the main stage, stepping on people’s limbs along the way like a hemp-wearing Inspector Clouseau, do the responsible Canadian thing and spout a Tourette Syndrome-like stream of “sorry”s. Enjoy the festival.
geoffolson.com
