Jacqueline Smith: Survival of the fittest

I survived it. Just.

I survived the fairy wings and the North Shore brat club. The public displays of affection and the public displays of tattoos-on-guns.

I survived the queues, the booze and the portaloos.

I saw the sky erupt in fireworks and then brighten with the sun. Then I collapsed in the comfort of my damp sleeping bag, somewhere in the cesspit of the campground.

Suffocating, as a foot does in a canvas shoe, I crawled out of the tent one hour later, caught my reflection in someone's sunglasses, and remarked that the only difference between the last day of the previous decade and the first of the present, was that everyone looked awful and the campground smelled worse.

It's been downhill from there really. My throat burned with warning signals until the incessant sniffles took over. My grazed knees need some professional attention.

But hey, thanks to a certain someone who organised the tickets, I was there. I was one of the 30,000 crazies who ended the decade jumping around in some poor, suffering vineyard, somewhere very far from Auckland.

I was one of those who was miffed that some of my picks - Brand New Math, Sola Rosa, Bionic Pixie, Computers Want Me Dead and Pop Strangers - were on while the entry queues weren't moving.

But I saw them because I was one of the lucky ones, living on site for three days.

I was also one of those sad to miss the Editors and Roots Manuva because we were too busy sweating after erecting tents. But at least I was one of those who juggled the scheduling to squeeze in some of that odd bald man, Moby, after Major Lazer.

Sure, he may have been a decade too late to be taken seriously, but at least everyone sang along to his tracks - or mimicked the intonations of his nasal cries.

As well as his theme-song "Why does my heart, ding, ding, ding ...", Rhythm and Vines 2009/10 will be remembered as the year of the cost-cutting. The year that the food was minimal (and average) the acts more local (but the frenzy around The Checks and Kora showed there was nothing wrong with that) and the showers in the campground constantly flooded (eight of them for hundreds and hundreds of girls). Of course, the tickets weren't any cheaper.

But when the timing, lighting and crowds all fell into place, the likes of Empire of the Sun and 2ManyDJs delivered epic shows that more than made up for any disappointments.

Other than those who had the entire contents of their tents stolen, everyone seemed to have a rager of a time, especially the man wandering around in his socks and underpants on New Year's Day.

Those who didn't get excited about Midnight Youth playing the midnight slot on New Year's Eve or who forgot to check out P-Money's set on Tuesday probably had a fine old time anyway, because they were with great people.

Dressed however they felt fit, moving in whichever way they were capable, it was the crowd - all 30,000, plus staff - that made the festival.

Survivors, all of them.

And on that note I would like to thank the hula hoop crew, Mark and co and Captain S for their outstanding demonstrations of pure, self-indulgent, fun. Thanks also to Cold Water Surf, Panadol and Band Aid for helping clean everything up. Happy New Year everyone.