Well here I am, alive. I survived the brutal, disorganized, opening day of OKC Cannabis Cup. I’m still uncertain whether my article warning you not to go was satirical or proof of my own clairvoyance.

To put it bluntly, the festival was shitty – very, very, VERY shitty. And dangerous. But don’t take my word for it:

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Wait, what? Were we even at the same event? My hellish Cannabis Cup experience — and that of fellow attendees who flocked to social media to share their shock — was the opposite of that High Times video. Let’s start from the top…

It began as a great day. I, the bum who usually nose-goes his way out of driving, volunteered to pick up my buddy. We had prepared medication to bring to this event and spent days planning and excitedly discussing Cannabis Cup weekend. We grabbed an over-sized helping of Chicken Express and headed down the highway around noon, in hopes of beating the crowd.

Little did we know, the whole event would turn into a paranoid sativa nightmare.

Once we arrived at the amphitheater, it took precisely 40 minutes to find suitable (if not legal) parking. After dealing with a very surly, clearly-in-need-of-a-vape-pen security guard at the only actual parking area, we ended up on the side of the road, parked about a mile from the gate:

After bridging the mile-long gap between our questionable parking spot and the main “parking lot,” we beheld a sight that stripped me of all hope: The line. It stretched entirely around the weirdly-placed, over-sized pond and off beyond my field of vision, behind hastily-constructed tents.

We entered the line at 1:20 p.m. In the more than three hours that followed, I witnessed countless hustlers in line, scamming people out of hundreds of dollars; ambulances rescuing multitudes of individuals who had succumb to heat exhaustion or worse; and more rebel flag tattoos than I would expect to see at the damn rodeo.

The parking clusterfuck and three- to five-hour wait in line, though, are secondary complaints to the biggest dropped bong: The lack of available water.

Apparently, organizers either didn’t know, or didn’t care, that thousands of marijuana patients would be standing in line in the scorching, humid Oklahoma heat for hours and hours suffering dry mouth and dehydration. There was no H2O. Aside from the pond, there wasn’t a drop of water in sight. People were passing out, having heat strokes, etc. I was stunning by the sheer number of ambulances seen going back and forth from this shit-show.

And don’t get me started on the aforementioned grifters. I personally witnessed a guy get scammed out of $100 in about 90 seconds. The hustle involved three bottle caps and one guess as to which held a little trinket beneath it. They’d let the idiot win a couple times before running up the bill on them. It was the Wild West.

Multiple “slight-of-hand” gambling rings developed while in line. I’ve never seen such a thing. People out there getting scammed. @HIGH_TIMES_Mag — Tony Bahama (@Tony_Bahama) August 25, 2019

After waiting in line long enough to watch the Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, we were greeted, inside, with a sight that left us perplexed and more than a little pissed:

A handful of locations were selling beverages near the stage that greets you beyond the gate, all of which were absolutely slammed with dehydrated individuals doing everything in their power to not suffer a heat stroke. Get this: There were only syrupy soft drinks available to buy. THEY DIDN’T EVEN THINK TO FUCKING PROVIDE WATER INSIDE THE EVENT.

Once inside Cannabis Cup, I took in the sparse area in which we found ourselves and caught myself wondering, “Is this…is this it?”

Then, across yet another pond, we spotted the area where smoking was permitted. That’s not to say everyone hadn’t been letting it rip from the road to the return trip, but this was the only area you were “allowed” to, without risking the gestapo-esque security making your sweaty existence even worse. This designated medicating area was at least a half mile away from the stage, at the end of a muddy, desolate path that snaked along the pond. Seriously? More walking in the heat for your shitty event?

After trekking through the mud and entering the “smoking area,” we were presented with the only redeeming quality of this event: Free rips. We waited for over three hours in line to stomp around in a steaming-hot wasteland for a few free dab rips.

I’ll admit, there were a few dozen tents and booths giving away shirts and swag, but is that really what any of us endured this for? Hell no.

Sunburnt, tired and dealing with the munchies, we eventually left OKC Cannabis Cup about an hour after we got inside and made the mile-long journey to our car. We were relatively lucky; others who arrived later reportedly spent upwards of five hours in line only to have event staff close the gates on ticket-holders and say, Sorry, we are at capacity.

Although I’d love to talk to the manager of the event and get an apology and free bottle of water, I guess it did provide some good exercise and life lessons. Plus, I’ll get to tell my kids someday that I Survived the Fyre Festival of Oklahoma Weed.

—Shoutout to my boys Kelly and Jamie for helping me survive this nightmare with good humor and good doinks.