Community Sucker or Swapping Spit?

Phoenix, Arizona

A couple weeks ago, I treated myself to concert tickets when my car broke down in Tucson.

Turns out, it’s a festival, not a concert. Oops. In my defense, they undersold it. Thirty dollars may be the cheapest price I’ll ever pay for a festival in my life.

Traveling alone is easy when it’s camping in the forest, but partying alone is new territory. Festivals require a higher level of confidence than a concert. At least concerts let you stay in one spot and disappear into the crowd. Following performers to different stages at festivals exposes your aloneness. And only weirdos party alone.

Don't get me wrong, I envy the weirdos. I just wasn't prepared to join them so soon.

I pull up to the five-stage festival (with my party favors thanks to Mountain Man #2) and give myself a pep talk to calm my anxiety:

You are meant to be here. Everything is fine. You will have a great time. You will meet who you are supposed to tonight, and they’ll offer you a place to sleep.

I find a corner to smoke, restart my night with a positive headspace, and wait to see what unfolds. I wander the stages and craft booths until I end up at the silent rave. It’s my first, and I’m in love. It’s perfect for people watching-the best entertainment for an introvert.

My favorite part is watching people jam out, switching to what they’re listening to, and hating it. It makes you wonder how people can dance to such terrible music.

But it’s also a reminder of the various music tastes in the world. Imagine how boring the world would be if we all listened to the same music. The demand definitely wouldn’t allow $30 festivals to exist.

On the dance floor

I keep ending up near the same group, but I don’t pay them much attention and leave shortly after.

I give up my headset to go watch the aerial performer. That's when I get approached with my first offer to save me from being a loner: a shirtless guy in his early 20’s. The type that calls women “bro”.

He’s chatting with me for a bit, and then I see the light click in his eyes when he realizes I’m alone. He asks who I’m here with, grabs my hand as soon as I confirm I’m by myself, and says “not to worry”.

Next thing I know, I’m being pulled towards the headbanger stage to find the rest of his group.

He calls one of his friends to find them in the crowd, and that’s when I overhear him say into the phone,

“I found a bitch”

Now, to be fair, I’m high. And I struggle with my hearing even sober. There’s heavy EDM blasting behind me, but I’m not taking any chances on what I might have heard.

I play it cool while he finds his people, and I join the group to enjoy the music. Then the mosh pit starts. My “savior” and his friends jump in, and I take my opportunity to escape to a different stage.

This stage is indoors, hot, packed, and sweaty. I don’t last long before I go back to the same EDM stage but in a different section of the crowd. That’s when I meet Hot Aries #1 (HA#1).  

We first locked eyes at the silent rave, and now we meet again. 

Side note: Since I quit my job I hated and started traveling, I’ve noticed a pattern: I only meet compatible zodiac signs. Unless they’re hot, blonde, and Aries. Mountain Man #2 falls in that category too, but I like the sound of Mountain Man better.

She’s with friends and family celebrating her birthday, and she adopts me into their group of seven. Thank God festival culture has created a norm to adopt loners into a friend group.

She even gives me one of her bracelets - the kiddy beaded type girls make in elementary. I am touched by the way she meticulously looks through each one to decide which one to gift. “Angel” is her final choice. Fitting. We’re chatting like we’re besties in between headbanging, and then we take a walk.

I notice HA#1 has a sucker, and I ask for an extra. She doesn’t have any since she was gifted this one, but she offers me the next best thing; the one in her mouth.

I’ve had a lot of things offered to me, but never a sucker while it’s in someone’s mouth.

I politely decline. Multiple times. But she’s not having it.

She spends so much energy trying to convince me how good her mystery flavor dum-dum is and how I “just have to try it” that I give in and put the sucker in my mouth.

She’s eagerly waiting for my opinion on the flavor as I’m pondering if this counts as swapping spit. I let it sit in my mouth a bit and nod my head in agreement to how good it is, but all I can think about is the foreign spit in my mouth. I take one final taste and pass it back before we start walking to join the group at the silent rave.

There’s a new DJ trio to choose from and it’s even better than the last. We’re all dancing and vibing out and that’s when I see it…

Her sister’s boyfriend sucking the same sucker - hanging out with it like it’s his own.

I go up to him and ask,

“Um, is this the community sucker?”

He gives me the prettiest smile and says “yes”.

Y’all…

I think this is the whitest thing I’ve ever been a part of, and that’s saying something.

So many thoughts are flashing through my mind...

Are kissing cousins real?

If this is happening in Arizona, what’s happening in the Midwest?

What differentiates sharing a sucker and spitting in each other’s mouth?

I watch as he passes the sucker around and shake the thoughts from my head out to the dance floor.

As the night goes on

Everyone’s sharing my water.

It’s a water bag meant for hiking with a straw that you have to bite and suck. The community sucker has now evolved to community water. I’m in it now. There’s no going back.

The crowd starts dispersing as the last sets finish and HA#1 offers me a couch to sleep for the night. What a blessing. I’m not ready to test out sleeping in my car after a night of partying.

We pile into an eight passenger van and start dropping people off. I play with someone’s dog at a pit stop and at the end of the ride ask the burning question to a car full of white people, “Is Arizona Racist?”

I make it to the couch for the night in a loaner set of pajamas when HA#1’s boyfriend decides to offer us a sucker.

He’s had an extra one this entire time…

The next morning

I head out to drive west. I’m meeting Mountain Man #2 in Los Angeles and stopping in San Diego on the way.

Since I don’t have health insurance, I take precautionary measures against last night’s spit swapping with a Pho breakfast and shots of fire cider on the drive. Fingers crossed I don’t catch anything.