It’s mountain town music festival season. Thank sweet Lord. Few things in life compare to movin’ and groovin’ to twangy tunes in your favorite mountain town. Unfortunately, sometimes while you’re swayin’ and slammin’ corndogs you may run into a few folks that’ll turn the vibe from 11 to bummer in a hurry. Be on the lookout for these not-so-awesome festival characters.

The Patchouli-oiled Hippie

For those not in the know, patchouli is a species of plant that smells like wet wool and unwashed camper ass. It’s a thick herb that grows on the undercarriage of mules and in the skin folds of overweight marmots. When the herb is made into a wearable fragrance, the off-putting notes of gag-inducing yuck combine to create a nauseating bouquet that would make mouth-breathing in an over-filled festival port-a-potty after a road flare had been dropped down its pipe seem like a stroll in a flower shop. Neo-hippies use patchouli oil to combat skin problems such as cleanliness. You will smell this person before you see this person, and once you see this person you’ll think Ah, that smell makes sense.

The Cultural Appropriation Guys-n-Gals

Smell that? It’s the stench of obliviousness and “soft” racism. These festy folks are out for Instagram likes, because demeaning marginalized minority cultures is tres chic and totes adorbz. You’ll see these space cadets clicking selfies and staging “Oh, I didn’t see you taking my photo” photos while wearing bindis, face paint, sombreros, headdresses, dashikis or the like. What pairs well with rock music and bluegrass in the shadow of precipitous peaks? Using one’s privilege to employ ignorance or the excuse “I’m honoring the culture” while divesting cultural objects of their significance and meaning. Ugh. 

The “I Take My Job Very Seriously” Security Guard

This uniformed bro has seen “Robocop” and “Cobra” one too many times. Most likely a police academy dropout or reject, this Oakley-clad, flat-top, Crossfitting, tribal-tattoo-having rent-a-cop is taking this weekend to hassle concert goers until next week when he’ll return to writing locals and tourists parking tickets on Main Street. He would love to rehash his high school third team honorable mention all-conference football stats with you if he wasn’t so concerned with checking your backpack for glass bottles and excess fun. Are you having a good time? Not so fast.

The More Zen Than You Folks

This person will try to sell you a rock. Run away. Run away as fast as you can. 

The “Off My Tarp!” Camp Chair Guy

This is the same person who used to keep your ball if it flew over the fence and hit his grass. “In my yard, I keep it!” This person will be sitting in a folding chair, upset, protecting the boundaries of his blue tarp like a certain orange-faced, border-battling freak job.

Hula Hoop Humans

Sure, they’re just swingin’ hips and havin’ a good time but it’s hard to enjoy music if you catch a mouth full of glow-in-the-dark hoop. Especially when you realize no one in the history of hoopin’ has ever washed their hoop. Mmmm, greasy circular plastic. Tasty.

The “I Work Out” Shirtless Guy

This young man should be quite easy to spot. You see, this young man is very ripped and he wants all to see. And wouldn’t ya know it, he just can’t seem to find his shirt. Oh, there it is, conveniently tucked into the back of his frayed cargo shorts. Why shirtless? Well, muscles radiate an extreme amount of bro body heat, like the gas venting of a fumarole or that sausage water that oozes out of a piping hot bratwurst. Because science. Plus, this dude’s Axe Body Spray only increases that temp, as does his chest biceps masquerading as man nipples. This fest-goer will be wearing a straw Quicksilver beach hat and a pooka shell necklace. You can find him hitting on your girlfriend while quad-fisting beers. What’s today’s W.O.D.? Keg stands and loud inappropriate public behavior, of course.

The Drunk, Drugged and Disorderly Monster

This Cro-Magnon uses guttural grunts to fain communication and is somehow already partied-out though the fest has just started. Standing still, or standing at all, is not in this cave-dwellers quiver. Possibly shoeless with dirty furry feet that would make Bilbo sprint back to the Shire or completely unable to stand on unfortunate and terribly chosen hemp wedge sandals, the DDDM will be on a mission to run into as many festers as possible. You see, the DDDM has ingested enough party spirits to kill a pod of orcas and make Keith Richards exhort, “Really, dude?!” This gremlin will be on a terrifically wild path of fest destruction before crumpling into a skin-puddle of subdued drunkenness. Give the DDDM a wide berth. Getting bumped into is easily brushed off. Vomit is not.