"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON?"
THE ROANOKE RIVER SODA POP FESTIVAL
Pinnie Partygoers wait for the Throwin' Stones to perform live on the stage
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It was the summer of 1972 in the New United States of America, and the Pinnacle Future had finally been fully realized. American goods flowed to American allies, inflation was at an all-time low, heavy metal was on the rise among African-American performers, the Illuminists had gotten caught in the quagmire of Afghanistan, and NUSA was preparing to celebrate its 198th year of American independence ever since the Declaration of Independence. Such it was that on August 15th, a week after the successful Boonework Music Festival, show organizers Jackson Hardison and Bob Rufferfield decided to plan out another music festival on Labor Day, in order to celebrate the Union's cultural and racial diversity and to honor the American workers who toiled in the factories of war during Manifest Climax. Of course, as we all know, this noble endeavor would eventually go off the rails completely.
The festival was ordinarily supposed to be held at the Virginian town of Danville, close to the Carolinian border. Unfortunately for the organizers, due to complaints by local Carolinian authorities, the festival was eventually canceled by the town authorities, who didn't want to risk raising issues between NUSA and Carolina. The duo was devastated and was forced to stop their preparations for the festival. All the work they had put in gathering contacts between all the old and new music groups along the East and West Coasts had gone to waste. But the story wasn't over just yet. Bob Rufferfield, an African-American male who had studied law at Harvard, was infuriated at the "Carolinian Crackers meddling in good Union business once more". While Rufferfield was eventually forced to cancel the festival, he, in one of the most infamous cases of malicious compliance in American history, obeyed court orders and moved the concert... to a small island in the Roanoke River at the very last minute.
The island that the venue had been relocated to was located in Carolinian territory, yet was claimed by NUSA and was only accessible by two roads connecting the island to greater America. Local Carolinians often canoed to the small island on dares to step foot in "Yankeeland". All in all, it was a quiet place. It would be perfect for Rufferfield and his festival; thousands of Pinnies would flood into the island, thumbing their noses at the Carolinians while partying hard and getting high on cocaine. The OPV would have to quarantine it afterward for "racial disease". The island was fully outside the reach of Carolinian and even American authorities. It was the perfect way for Rufferfield to get his revenge.
Two days before Labor Day weekend, NUSA authorities were surprised and shocked when flyers were sent across the NUSA advertising the festival's new location. Ironically, thousands of tourists were still pouring into Virginia, searching for the original location of the festival and sleeping in sleazy hotels and their own cars. State authorities considered temporarily closing the borders of Virginia, but eventually decided to let the festival at the new location take place, rather than deal with over ten thousand hyped-up violent Pinnies. Thus Rufferfield's gambit succeeded, and thousands of people began to flood into Roanoke River. It was here that things immediately began to come apart. Rufferfield had originally expected only around 5 to 10,000 people to actually show up, filling the island up to capacity. What Rufferfield didn't realize was that the names he had managed to get signed onto the festival had brung over their own, massive home fanbases, who even now were hurriedly hitchhiking their way from California to Virginia. At the climax of the festival, over 190,000 people attended the festival.
The first day was a challenge all on its own. The island was quickly filled to capacity as Johan Davis and his "Beetles" took the stage, and soon the Roanoke River was filled with music echoing from America to Carolina. The Office of Public Virtue and hundreds of annoyed Carolinian citizens could only watch as the massive concert took place next to their homes, and soon hundreds of local complaints were pouring into the NUSA Embassy in Carolina. By evening, Rufferfield expected the massive crowd to disperse into their various hotels and cars to sleep. Unfortunately, the lack of parking had many concertgoers parking far away from the venue, and the sheer distances involved meant many chose to sleep on the ground. Blankets were passed around, tents were set up, holes were dug as impromptu toilets
The second day was even worse than the first. The weather report for Sunday had predicted sunny weather but had neglected to mention the massive storm system forming in Carolina. Torrential rain began pouring onto the island, and the ground quickly began turning into mud. Multiple fights had also begun breaking out on the island; several packs of Sweet Victory: Original Cocaine Edition had been brought onto the island and were giving thousands of partygoers drug-fueled highs. By evening, several partygoers had crossed over the river to Carolina, killed a farmer's cows and shot his dog after it gave chase after them, and crossed back over to NUSA. Even worse (in the eyes of the Carolinians), several "rebellious teenagers" secretly crossed over to Roanoke Island, seeking to experience the "Yankee Pinnacle Future". This only served to make the island spill over with partygoers, and eventually, the spillage of human beings poured out of the island into the roads and highways.
The third day saw the festival descend into relative chaos. Numerous fights broke out, gunshots were heard every now and then, drugs were given out freely, and thousands of people were rocking out as the final act started. A food truck bringing food and water to the festival was looted and burned. Several Pinnies decided to have fun with a stash of fireworks they had brought over and set them off in the middle of the crowd. And, shockingly, thousands of Pinnies and Cackalacks crossed over the border to see what life was like in each other's respective homelands. It was chaos, but a strangely calm kind of chaos.
This would last until the OPV, who had had enough of the party, deployed a crack team of riot police to the island in a massive "border control operation", NUSA controlled territory be damned. This, however, did not go well. Several Cackalacks who had experienced Yankeeland and thought that it wasn't so bad after all spread the news that over 5,000 riot police were coming to the island to arrest them all. The crowd was instantly whipped up into a fury, as it was Yankee Pinnacle custom to let a party continue until it was over and done with. When the riot police arrived, they were faced with over 200,000 angry festivalgoers, all of them armed with crude hand-to-hand weapons, rusty bolt-action rifles, and M1901 handguns. The resulting battle that took place was encapsulated in the Kissassmee Reporter Prize-winning photo of 1972, which showed the final and most advertised act, the Throwin' Stones, perform "Paint it Red", a jingoistic, genocidal song about "killing the Sandies for NUSA and the Kingdom of Israel", while a massive melee battle between Pinnies and the OPV took place in front of the stage.
By the end of the third day, the island was deserted, save for a few drugged-out Pinnies and multiple burning vehicles. Chancellor Gamble II demanded that organizers Jackson Hardison and Bob Rufferfield be fined and imprisoned, but pressure from Oswald and NUSA put that debacle to a close. Thus, the Roanoke Soda Pop Festival was enshrined in Yankee memory as one of the greatest and most Pinnacle achievements of the Pinnacle Future, being remembered as a memory of the "good times" even through the Great American Civil War, the subsequent American Thermonuclear Collapse, and the many,
many American Wars of the Pinnacle Faith. Jehovah bless those partygoers and people of Pinnacle Blood! All hail!