Don't worry kid, you'll get through this. 

Mother Nature can be a real loathsome bitch sometimes. Like when she decides to destroy the grounds of the music festival you’ve been planning to go to for the last five months. Sometimes, the Earth-Mother just decides to go ham and flood festival camping grounds, demolish stage and vendor tents and throw port-o-potties around like they're dice on a craps table — and of course there's nothing you can do about. Life's rough like that sometimes. 

So how does a person react to the news that the best festival lineup they’ve ever seen has been canceled the night before the festival was supposed to start — when you’ve already flown in from 900 miles away? Not well.

Here is a breakdown of my fragile emotional state from the moment I received the email that Levitation in Austin was canceled using the classic Kübler-Ross Model of grief. Which as we all remember from high school psych class, outlines the way people handle traumatic situations like the death of a loved one or a divorce … or in this case, the cancelation of what would have been the best music festival ever.

Stage 1 – Denial

"This can’t be fucking happening. I just flew 900 miles for this. It’s a beautiful day out, I just went swimming, what the hell are they talking about its canceled? What inclement weather? What do you mean the festival grounds are flooded and destroyed? They’ll definitely change their mind. They cant be doing this — literally the festival is supposed to start in the morning. No way they will cancel it this close to the scheduled start. A whole festival canceled? You can’t cancel that. It says rain or shine on the ticket, we’ll be good. This is a bad attempt at a joke. Anonymous must have hacked their email and sent out this joke email."

Stage 2 – Anger

"OKAY WHAT THE FUCK. These stupid pieces of shit are really going to cancel this festival that I’ve been planning to go to for five months? The people that run this festival are pussies. I’m supposed to see some of my favorite bands you motherfuckers. This is a rock n' roll festival. Remember rock n' roll? Its supposed to be about rebellion and being a badass. This is the least badass thing ever. I bought new skinny jeans for this you dickheads. How the fuck are you going to do this to me? I’m going to find you and beat your ass, creator of this festival. You anonymous jackass obvious music-hating dipshit. I don’t give a shit if you’re refunding the ticket cost. You are a bad person."

So what. We didn't need that tent anyway.

Stage 3 – Bargaining

"Okay so maybe we can figure something out. I mean they are re-booking shows throughout the city. Maybe we will be able to get tickets to some of those shows. I mean we have come all this way to a new city I’m sure we’ll get something to work. I mean Austin is supposedly the music capital of the world. That's like their slogan. Surely we’ll be able to figure something out."

Stage 4 – Depression

"I'm going to cry. Every back up show sold out in less than two minutes. Every. Single. One. Of course I couldn’t get through to buy tickets. Of course the website didn’t work for me. I am worthless. I have no reason to exist. Oh my god. I may never get a chance to see some of these bands again. I just won’t. This was it. This was my one and only chance. I can’t believe this is happening to me. I need a hug. Or drugs. Both? Why did the weather do this to me? I didn’t do anything to weather. I like weather. Oh cool. People are selling tickets to some of the shows on Craigslist for $100 per show. Oh, they already sold them. I can’t go on. Life is too cruel. I can’t make it. I'm going to go drown myself at the flooded festival grounds. Tell my parents I love them."

Stage 5 – Acceptance

"Well this has been ridiculous, huh? I mean I guess we are in Austin anyway might as well make the best of it. There are like 500 bars in this city that will be fun to check out. And I am hanging out with a bunch of friends I haven’t seen in a long time. We can go explore 6th St and Rainey St. I mean we might as well go have fun and meet new people. Apparently everyone in Austin is nice. That's cool. I like meeting new people. Granted, it hasn’t rained at all since we’ve been here and the weather is super nice. This is just a different type of trip now. Life will continue. You don't need to hide sharp objects from me anymore. I am content. Life is good. "

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