Due to a whim of the gods of Lomography, the Danish LC-A party became a two-for-one kind of a thing.
It was a Wednesday, the last day of the warm-up for this year’s Roskilde Festival, we all met up at camping area N for a pre-festival LC-A birthday get together. It was hot, so hot we damn near melted. Most of us were travel weary and covered in the infamous Roskilde Festival urine-dust, so it turned out a laid back affair – just chillin’ in the shade of Agora N with drinks, tunes and the obligatory LC-A shaped chocolate cake.
Only a couple of Lomographers made it, mostly the party consisted of friends of mine – and quite a few random festival guests attracted by the shade and the groove! Eventually the party melted into festival, music, and more partying.
It had been a week of music, sun and Lomography-fun, with a huge smile on my face and sporting a ridiculous sunburn, I dropped the film off at the lab, and now I needed some sleep.
A couple of days later I picked up the festival rolls from the lab. I couldn’t help but start unrolling the strips on the train ride home to see what I got. Everything looked really great, I got more and more excited until I got to the roll from the party – it was blank, or nearly blank (a lot of orange and pink and a few shapeless blobs). I had a lot of awesome festival shots, but nothing (AAAARGHH!!) from the party. All that survived were the pictures of the cake I took before leaving the house, thinking it’d soon lose its pretty in the heat. Obviously I had committed the ultimate lomographic sin by not using a back-up camera, and this was my purgatory!
- Sun and Roskilde urine-dust do incredible things to an LC-A shaped chocolate cake. (Oh well, it still tasted good!)
- The temporary tattoos were awesome, but have you ever tried putting one on a sweaty, grimy festival person? Not so easy! Next time bring baby wipes!
I knew I couldn’t let it end like that. It just so happened a couple of weeks later my friends were planning on kidnapping me to go to a Rockabilly/US car meet in a soccer field outside a small town named Tølløse. Now, I have to make this perfectly clear: I know absolutely nothing about cars, I don’t even drive. But they’re sorta pretty to look at.
So I gathered up what was left of the Lomo-swag and we improvised a second party! Didn’t have time to bake this time around, so I got a hold of the finest cake the local supermarket could offer, and off we went in Goldarella! By now the summery part of the summer had been replaced by something much more like November, and it was raining cats and dogs. The cake got a little wet, but none the worse for wear. Once the worst of the rain cleared up in the afternoon, we kicked the party off with cake and a few gin and tonics out of Goldarella’s trunk. We did a walk around the lot with the guys going all nerdy around the cars (I tried my best to catch some good nerd-moments on film, but the nerds turned out to be faster than the lens), and spent the evening cruising around the lot on the bed of Sannie’s pick-up truck, until it blew some sort of gasket from all the extra weight. The rest of the night passed into a blur of cars, cruising the lot, drinking, carnival rides, bumper cars and hurricanes, and ended in a stuffy tent with some very bad music indeed. Life is great!
- A night drinking around cars means waking up in the morning with lots of strange bruises.
- Certain carnival rides are not advisable after/while consuming alcohol, and may induce vomiting. (Specifically the twirly kinds.)