Some start working on their blood alcohol level with a fierce determination and practiced professionalism, getting it up over 3% as quickly as possible. Through the early afternoon, the clients are cheerful, suburban college students. Most guyz admire the bats, and grin politely, long enough for Gwyn to hustle them some henna. There's a profitable synchrony between our booth and the airbrush poofer. We draw a good crowd and keep busy. I line up rocker gurlz to dry on our mats, and people admire the hip-to-hip knotwork.

Every so often some poor Michigan boy who's never seen boobs before snaps a pic of Gwyn. The Vampire Bat lunges into the crowd and comfiscates his camera, fangs bared! One, two, three, we have FIVE disposable cameras! Ask permission, dudes, this isn't a zoo!

The sun beats down harder, people pound back more beer. By 4 pm the mood swings from playfulness into inebriated aggression. Two very drunk college girls tease the crowd into paying them to take their shirts off for airbrushing. They draw a nasty, stupid crowd. The money comes to a halt as frat guyz press forward to stare, gape, and make gorilla sounds. Security comes in, and sends everyone on their way. Security agrees boobs are fine, but assholes suck.

Business stays slow, with the sober few tricking through. Gwyn and Shanon are trashed from the heat, I worry about them. One fellow drags in and flops into a chair. He's wasted on drugs, alcohol, or heatstroke, or all of the above, and I let him stay while he leafs through a pattern book. His speech is slurred, and he can't hold his head up. Another girl is slumped over on a bench across the way. I go to check on her to see if she needs a paramedic. She's drunk, and the boyfriend who gave her a ride in just dumped her, so she has no way home. She's not in any peril, just pissed, ditched and miserable.

Men stagger up to the booth and ask if we'll henna their penises. We say "Sorry, we left the magnifying glass and tweezers at home". Or, to break the tedium, "Whip it on out!". They elbow their buddies, snort and stagger off. Bevis and Butthead grew pubes and are standing in front of us. Butthead propositions me. The voice of impotence bellows, brags, and belches beer.

Any time a sober appreciative person shows up, we greet them with absolute joy and do the best henna possible. The gurlz who love henna keep us happy! We only wish there were more of them! I quickly sketch across their tummies and fill them up with flowers. Some clients come back by to show us fantastic stains from their morning hennaes. Those who got hennaed are thrilled with the results! We henna a charming gothgurl with tattoos copied from Edward Gorey's"Gashleycrumb Tinies". CJ from Drowning Pool comes along and considers getting hennaed. The sentient people are great, and we enjoy hennaeing them.

A lady who is on management crew comes by and asks how we're doing, and we give her free henna. She's delighted! We do free henna on any tour person, we know they deserve a break! She asks if we'd do another rockfest. She has connections. Hell, yes!, as long as its a chickfest and not booze'n'ballz. If you can speedsling, have marathon endurance, have nerves of steel, and killer business instincts, this stuff is FANTASTIC. If you're anything less than a henna Pit Bull alpha bitch, find another gig!