My Brazilian friend Gabi said she only knew two Limp Bizket songs, then proceeded to belt out all the words to at least nine of them. Not just the chorus either — all the words.

    I woke up Monday morning in a tent at Sziget to the sounds of everyone coughing. I thought to myself “I hope I don’t catch that cough.”

    Everyone in the hostel went out to a “sparty” — a late night party at one of the Hungarian baths. When I asked my Australian roommate about the scene he just summed it up in one word: “Dry humping.” “So like an orgy?” “No. An orgy would at least be sexy. This was just dry humping.”

    The border to Austria is closed. I make alternative plans.

    I promised my Hungarian friend I wouldn’t describe Budapest as “The City of Giant Holes.”

    Festival Tip #1: If your French friend tries to smuggle in a water bottle of vodka and is caught by security, don’t help him chug it at the gate.

    Festival Tip #2: If you want to smuggle in an entire bottle of absinthe, consider camouflaging it in a Listerine bottle.

    Festival Tip #3: Don’t drink a lot of a absinthe from a stranger’s smuggled-in Listerine bottle.

    Gear Report: My sunglasses decided to stay in Romania. They’re just sitting there on the top shelf at the Hostel Transylvania waiting for me to come back. The $5 backup pair I bought in Latvia also decided to part ways with me as well.

    Injury Report: Like everyone else I caught a bout of what’s fondly referred to as “Sziget Island Disease.” It’s mostly a dry hacky cough where occasionally it feels like my lungs are trying to pull up my soul.