Out & About #932 | 1MX Festival Toronto

Compared to last year (and past years), my enthusiasm for concerts has been withering. Instead of burning joy and anticipation, I've instead found myself heaving dejected sighs and muttering, "I don't want to go." shrouded with fatigue. The candid truth is that: An absence of vacation days entail interminable periods of labour, while few artists warrant venturing into odd parts of the city at inconvenient times of the day.

​I had succumbed to a sense of urgency during the ticketing process for 1MX Festival: a fellow Justin Park fan had informed me of the event, leading to the highly regrettable, non-refundable purchase. Within weeks of ticket sales commencing, the price dropped by eighty dollars. Both of us sought justice: one was appeased by the offer of complimentary Will Call tickets and tier upgrades, while the other denied all alternatives and pressed for financial compensation. Clearly, the latter was me.

Complimentary tickets would be in favour of the organizer, as to fill the seats with patrons and encourage spending within the venue. Moreover, I hadn't a single person I'd thrive in bringing along for free. (The sleepy polar bear had been eliminated from the getgo, as to preserve peace in my ears and soul.)

When my fellow festival-goer informed that she'd be taking the GO train instead of driving, I learned that carpooling was out the window. However, recalling the dreadful commuting chaos of the previous year's CNE, I was adamant about taking advantage of my personal vehicle.
In order to avoid Budweiser Stage's atrocious $35 event parking, I turned towards Green P lots in Liberty Village. Amidst my research, I'd uncover an even better solution: visitor parking within the underground garage of my coworker's residence. Situated at the east end of Liberty Village, the lot was within walking distance to the district's countless eateries and, most importantly, Exhibition GO and its underpass towards the south side of the Gardiner Expressway.

​Setting foot on the interlock-filled laneways, I quickly sourced indoor plumbing facilities from Tim Hortons, then continued evaluation of my lunch options.

An Aloette Burger, pickled onions removed, was selected as the singly attractive sustenance item. After all, it was the closest choice to smash burgers when dining solo with time constraints. Within five minutes of relinquishing payment, my name was called out from the pickup window. The burger was presented in a logo-bearing paper bag, then securely wrapped within a pouch bearing the identical colour scheme and logo. The design was deserving of approval: while the exterior maintained consistent branding and visual appeal, the interior was lined with foil for insulation and leakage prevention.

Napkins were requested to facilitate on-site dining, for the bag contained neither utensils nor mouth- and finger-wiping devices. Generally speaking, the Aloette Burger was quite delectable. Sandwiched between two plush buns were ample shredded lettuce threads drizzled with a creamy dijonaise and a juicy, flavourful patty bearing mild tints of pink at its core. The inclusion of emmental cheese in its description had piqued my interest considerably, especially when noting the cheddar in other offerings. Unfortunately, this component was barely discernible: thin to an extent where it had seemed scraped off a block and allowed to settle in place on top of the patty, surface film intact.

That aside, Aloette Go had surpassed my expectations in terms of speed of delivery, ease of consumption (ie. packaging), and depth of flavour.

​​Rounding off the visit with a trip for dessert, assorted gummies were acquired from Bulk Barn. The morsels would serve snacking purposes throughout the show, and would be unlikely to pose security screening issues given their container-free storage method.

​Shortly afterwards, I found my fellow impulse ticket-purchaser, and we trekked across the now-vacant Exhibition Place parking lot towards the intersection of Lake Shore and New Brunswick. In the forecast were breezy, somewhat overcast conditions, for which I was thankful. Any dose of humidity would have rendered the short-lived trek absolutely miserable.

It had been unknown to me, until the evening prior, that doors would open at the early hour of 2 PM. Inconsistent details across Google and the official website had led me to assume a start time of 8 PM. Email notifications had rectified this presumption, leading to an exceptionally punctual arrival.

The security crew was admittedly speedy in their checks, rummaging through my compact messenger and tote without verifying the contents of any encased items. My camera was not questioned whatsoever. That said, the forest green uniform-donning lady was about to threaten disposal of my plastic water bottle until her partner advised of acceptability - I would hope so! The venue rules had been reviewed meticulously in preparation for the grueling process.

​Frankly, my expectations for the event were low. Leading into the venue were endless promotional banners for travel to the Philippines, followed by a handful of vendor and sponsor booths. I gleefully snapped several (extravagant) snapshots before the colourful backdrops, even if my internal disposition indicated otherwise.

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Fumy food trucks and pop-up Filipino street food were of minimal interest to us, given our recent ingestion of lunch. Assuming the sole excitement-inducing installation was the DDR contraption at the RBC Music booth. The setup had been appropriately termed "Rhythm Revolution" and featured familiar DDR (not Pump It Up!) tracks to Vaughan's Dave & Buster's.

​Two rounds were excitedly executed, with one on "Easy" mode and another on "Normal". The latter was notably not as straightforward as I had imagined, though the plus sign configuration was arguably foreign in contrast to the five-button PIU layout. ​Grades of "B" and "D" were achieved respectively​; the event staff praised my completion of the second track, as many were observed to be kicked out before termination of the song.

The remainder of the event grounds spanned fast food options of pizza, fried chicken, and, of course, alcohol. An artist merchandise booth was also present was the final performer of the evening, Dabin. Washrooms were situated to the immediate right of the stage, with the men's section situated next to the entryway for the pit.

​Nearing the 3 PM start time, we filed into our seats. An obvious emptiness filled the venue. Besides a handful of BYGO supporters - fans in hand, mind you - nearly all sections were unoccupied.

Performances started on time without emceeing of any sort. The five-member boy group from the Philippines was, essentially, the opening act. Despite being skilled in their art, and nearly perfectly synchronized in their choreography routine, crowds were simply insufficient to instill energy.

​As with any idol performance, roles were clearly distributed amongst the members: the long-haired member (rapper) exuded Hyungwon vibes, while the tallest member seemed to assume a leadership position.
During the ments, the members articulated their speeches in English, which came as a distinct surprise. Admittedly, some of the phrases were cringe-inducing - an apparently quintessential element of Filipino culture - while others commercialized for mass appeal.

​Although I enjoyed their performance, I knew none of their tracks. It was also disheartening to witness such an empty stage for their segment.

I adhered to my assigned aisle spot in Row G for the entirety of BYGO's set, then gradually shifted towards third row aisle at seeing absence of viewers. There I would remain for Justin Park's brief appearance at 3:50 PM.

His slot spanned about fifteen to twenty minutes, wherein he sang well-loved tracks such as "Adore You, Dior You", "SHADY", "Mi Vida", and a cover of Jungkook's "Seven". Fury filled our hearts when his set was cut short by the organizers, forcibly removing the renowned "On the Low" from the setlist. 

A personal regret was his omission of "Bay to the City" and "Like We Used To", for which I have fondness for the lyric "Did you run out of love or just patience".

A third festival-goer joined us just before the arrival of Justin Park. She pointed out that artists were tagged with a green wristband. This proved true, for BYGO later appeared in casual outfits for the observance of other performers before quickly disappearing backstage.

​We later determined that the lime green wristbands indicated stage access, while orange was reserved for media. Black wristbands identified those with standing area access, and were used as the sole identifier of P1 ticketholder status by security.

By this point, we had shifted to the front row of the leftmost section of the stage, and those that filed in after us merely settled into adjacent seats. Gradually, the blue plastic seats filled with bobbing heads.

I had kept my eye out for UMI, having mistaken her as the artist with which Junny had collaborated for his blanc album. When the all-white-, knitted cat hat-donning artist commenced her set with mediation before a quilted DJ backdrop though, my brows furrowed in confusion.
Earlier performances had spanned close to one hour and proved rowdy beyond belief. UMI's set, while soothing, was too spiritual for our collective preference. After a barefoot sequence on the stage and in the pit, she retreated back onto the stage and concluded her segment with a prayer.

Excessive downtime filled each intermission. Although allowing a buffer period for stage crews to prepare DJ sets and shift instruments on stage made for easier operational transitions, we viewed the twenty- to thirty-minute durations as unnecessary. "Justin Park could have sung one more song!" argued my adjacent concert-goer. And she was right: Why was it necessary to include such hard stops and magnified buffers?!

​​For select artists, a thirty-second YouTube Premiere-style countdown aired before their entry. thuy was one of them. 

​Her 6:40 PM arrival was received well by the audience. In fact, some viewers had slipped into the seats beside us purely for her performance, then departed immediately afterwards.

"obsessed" was her second track of the set, and my unrivalled favourite amongst her discography. Her interactions with the crowd were fluid, denoting experience on stage.

thuy concluded with the popular pick of "girls like me don't cry", allowing the audience to participate in singing part of the chorus, and was even kind enough to autograph previous tour merchandise towards the end of her segment (without being rushed by organizers!).

​As dusk fell upon Budweiser Stage, I regarded K-Pop lightsticks being illuminated with a shred of amusement. Two Candybongs (TWICE) and Binky Bongs (NewJeans) could be spotted from afar.

Several hours of stagnancy had me becoming increasingly restless. After thuy's performance, we collectively agreed on abandoning our front row seats in favour of sustenance. There were two more acts in the setlist, though neither were deemed performers of our interest.

As we departed from Section 201, we crossed paths with BYGO. Obviously, the opportunity for a photo was too good to pass up. My overly zealous grin and heart pose now constitutes the highlight of the day.

​Dinner took the form of Chicken Tenders & Fries from KFC and Deluxe Pizza slices from Pizza Pizza. Contrary to my expectations, food prices at the venue were reasonable - notably lower than Wonderland and less than ten dollars for a meal. Local beer was offered on tap between $12-$15, while non-alcoholic Corona could be obtained for $7. Pretzel and Bud Light combos were pricier though, ringing in at $23.75 before tax.

Our meals were taken to the back of the venue, where the greasy specimens were consumed in the presence of mosquitoes and peace-seeking festival-goers.

​At the late hour, majority of the venue had been filled, allowing Ben & Ben's band performance to take place in the presence of excited wails.

A noticeable number of visitors had assembled in Dabin merchandise, likely in wait of the DJ/producer's 9:25 PM start. Meanwhile, my two companions were eager to embark on their journey home.

Early departures from concerts were peculiar to me - unheard of, really. That said, 1MX Festival was less of a proper concert and more of a relaxed event with friends. Seating (or standing) arrangements were dynamic, allowing attendees to traverse in and out for food and bathroom breaks without fear of losing one's spot before the stage.

​Having braced myself for the same intensity as a K-Pop show, 1MX Festival materialized milder than I could have ever imagined. It was, remarkably, devoid of pushing and GA aggression; audience interactions were casual and liberal, as opposed to regulated and intentional.

"Do you regret going?" prompted the sleepy polar bear indirectly.
"I don't regret going, but I do regret the price." I declared, matter-of-factly. My refund quest has not yet ceased, after all. Being in the company of friends with "low tension" also led to a universally slower pace, not the squeals of hyperness I'm accustomed to and love.

In addition, sitting for prolonged periods of time without freedom to stand and dance felt stifling. The washrooms, while easily accessible, were absolutely revolting: broken seats, stray strands of hair, random puddles on the floor, and finnicky locks were just a few of the issues encountered. That said, at least there had never been a shortage of toilet paper, soap, or paper towels.

​We made our way back to Exhibition grounds via the Lake Shore overpass. The night view of the CN Tower was astounding, and even arguably tranquil notwithstanding the rusted, peeling bridge structure.

Parting ways just outside the Liberty Market Building, I continued towards East Liberty Street with an unfulfilled yearning for dessert.

Chatime's Salted Caramel Milk Tea was vetoed in favour of Thai Tea from the adjacent occupant of Chiang Mai. 

Its price of six dollars before tax seemed reasonable, especially when evaluated in conjunction with its tremendously swift preparation time. I happily sipped the beverage from its sturdy plastic cup while venturing back to the underground garage. In hindsight, I could have easily recreated the concoction in the comfort of my own home, for the combination of brewed Thai Tea, Coffee-Mate, and golden yellow sugar syrup tends to yield consistent results.

​Following some slight entry issues, I arrived in the visitor garage and began the journey home. Beyond occasional slow stretches on the QEW, my route was clear. Within thirty-five minutes, I had pulled into my familiar asphalt driveway, free of commuting distress.