"WINNIPEG FOLK FESTIVAL 2005 
 by John Benson 

 We stepped foot on the campground at about 7:00am. Once we reached the end of Trailhead 1 we paused for a quick moment and looked out at what was before us. During this time, Dick took a deep breath in, smiled, and exclaimed ""Ah! Folk Fest!"" This was my first time attending this crazy festival, and after only the first 10 seconds I knew I was in for one Hell of a memorable weekend. We had driven all night long to get here as early as possible. Who were ""we"", you ask? Well, we were a strange mix of individuals with loose connections to one another. 

 There was, of course, me. Next, we had Dick. Dick had worked as a cook at Strawberry's before I was hired there in July 2002. Dick owned The Melvin House, which is a house notorious for its parties and its interesting blend of visitors. It was the kind of house you could just show up to at any time of day and, as long as you knew someone there and you weren't terribly annoying, you were welcome to stay for a few drinks or hit of weed. You could even stay for supper, as long as you did your fair share of the cleanup afterward. The general rule was that you respect the privacy of those who lived there, you take out what you bring in, and you respect the property. Anyone who could abide by these rules and who didn't overstay their welcome could drop by during any reasonable hour of the day and just relax with whoever else was there. This system worked better than you might think. Everyone got along, and nobody got the place into any trouble. This paved the way for some monumentally successful parties around New Year's and July 1st. 

 Also part of the Folk Fest crew that year was Bev, whom I'd worked with quite frequently at the 'berry. And, finally, there was Tedray. Tedray was by far the standout member of our group. While Dick, Bev, and myself were all within a year of each other in our early-to-mid twenties, Tedray was 50-something. He was also a Caribbean immigrant. Blacker than the dead of night. His long black hair was quickly going gray. He wore it in loose dreadlocks that hung almost to the ground. He spoke with an extremely thick reggae-type accent. He not only stood out among our group of four - he stood out among everyone at the festival. On top of it all, he was by far the most outgoing and social of us all. This was a blessing. In large part thanks to Tedray, our small group of tents became the centre of attention on Friday night. I'll get to that... 

 Getting to Folk Fest was a bit of a fluke in itself. First of all, as late as Thursday afternoon, we didn't have our tickets, which had already been paid for and were supposed to have arrived. The plan was to leave The Melvin House after Dick got off work Thursday, drive overnight and pitch our tents bright and early Friday morning before the Sun came up and scorched us. I got to The Melvin House sometime in the afternoon on Thursday and sat around in the living room chatting with a few others about the upcoming weekend. Some of them had gone previous years, and they all had positive things to say about their experiences. I was getting psyched just thinking about it. Dick showed up after not too long and asked if Paco had shown up with the tickets yet. Paco's real name is Anthony (I'm not sure why everyone calls him Paco), and he was a cook at Strawberry's. We had all given him our money for the festival and camping passes with the understanding that he would put it all on his credit card. Paco didn't plan to go that year, but for some reason it was easiest to have him buy the tickets. Maybe he had a Ticketmaster account or something. I'm not sure. Well, Paco had not shown up, and repeated calls to his cellphone had gone unanswered. Dick starts to worry. I held my cool, figuring everything would sort itself out. A few hours later, maybe around 9:00pm or so, Bev shows up at The Melvin House. ""Can anyone get ahold of Paco?"" To relieve the tension that was quickly building up, we all sat down and passed around a few joints. It was approaching 10:00pm now, and we were dreading having to either postpone the festival by a day, or worse yet, a year. Soon enough, lights flood into the living room. Paco's white car pulls into the driveway! There is much rejoicing, although we did give him shit for not answering his cell. Nonetheless, he takes out his wallet and distributes the tickets to Bev, Dick, and myself. ""Alright, Benson, Bev, pack your shit up, we need to collect the black man, and then we're off."" says Dick after a huge sigh of relief. 

 After organizing all of our stuff in the back of Bev's very small car we went and grabbed Tedray. We definitely could have used a bigger vehicle. Tedray and I were in the back, each having to hold at least two backpacks full of gear on our laps. Now, we had brought along a fair amount of mary jane under the assumption (the very wrong assumption) that it might