Subsisting on a diet of vodka and oxygen, they’ve been abandoned and left to think about their life decisions… or just curl up next to a trash bag and wait for some saintly concert-goer to walk them out of the festival.
They haven't been satisfied with a Lolla lineup since ever. When they’re not stewing in judgement, they’re gushing about Chance the Rapper or Darkside.
These movers and shakers standing on the VIP side of the gates believe that concerts are just a vehicle to drive brand awareness (much like shoes are just a vehicle for dog poop). They judge a man not based on the content of his character, but by the “value add” of following him on Instagram.
The bro hoard
With no sense of self-awareness or object permanence (“Connor, where’re my shades? Oh, wait, they’re on my head!”), they show off their shirt-repellent torsos while wedging through crowds and wildly swinging their backpacks.
Hula hoop fanatic
Crude hippie-dancing alone cannot satisfy them. They are one with the hoop.
EDM guy on allllllllll the drugs
Where you see a security guard trying to pull someone off the ground, hallucinating EDM guy sees a talking hot dog asking to be sacrificed. You would've thought EDM guy learned his lesson at Pitchfork.
Dude in a unitard
Referring to this attention-seeker is the only socially acceptable time to use the term “tard".
Person with a sign/flag/giant face printout
It’s so fun that a group agreed to meet up next to the guy holding an 8ft Steve Buscemi cutout. It’s not fun when you’re behind said guy, and instead of seeing a band, you get a full view of the creep from Con Air.
The novelty of mud-diving has yet to dwindle for these folks, who would’ve fit right in at the original Woodstock... back when no one cared about anything but free love. Not even E. coli.
30-something alt-rock lifer
He/she so desperately wishes they were seeing Jane's Addiction instead of Arctic Monkeys. And that light blue denim comes back around.
They do exist, and they’re as rare and as bizarre as the mermaids they emulate.
The coordinated mob of gate-crashers
A fun pastime if you’re waiting in line at the West entrance (which you shouldn’t be, because the North entrance is always less busy) is to watch the effort of a flash-mob-hopping the fences to get in for free. There’s always one klutzy kid who gets nabbed by security, and you’ll feel bad for two seconds until remembering that you had to scrounge together $300 for a wristband on Craigslist.
Third-degree sunburn victim
Did you think this much exposure to the sun would power you like Superman? If you did, hi again, EDM guy!
This person will spend two-thirds of the festival in line at the Porta Potty. By the time they meander the length of Grant Park to find their friends, it’s time for... another pee break.
Chill out, dude. Stand on the ground like a normal person.
11-year-old make-out artists
With more charging hormones than a young adult novel, the obnoxious tweeners are spending every second without parental guidance making out... hard, with braces.
Parents with kids
They wade through a sea of 100,000 sweaty, loaded music fans with an ear-plugged toddler atop their shoulders, en route to the Kidzapalooza stage. What's even the point?
They came to see that one headliner, and have pretty much no idea who’s playing the other 90% of the festival. Watch as they stare at the lineup board as if they’re trying to read the Magna Carta.
Sean Cooley is Thrillist's Chicago Editor and has eaten half a deep dish pizza during a Lollapalooza rain delay. Follow him @SeanCooley.