T.S Eliot believed that April is the cruelest month, but I have to disagree. My vote's for February, the runt of the calendar. It’s the month where winter reminds you that she’s still there, caressing you with her cold hands until your skin dries out from head to toe. February is such a cruel month, that every four years it decides to throw one more roadblock in spring's way with another day.

During this hellish month, I revert back to a primal creature, choosing not to leave my cave once the sun goes down. As I hibernate and eat my weight in tongue-scalding Chef Boyardee, I allow myself to dream of warm weather. Of sleeping with the window open to let the breeze in my room. Of taking luxurious, outdoor strolls and not speed walk wherever I’m going. Dreaming of one thing in particular really helps to ease my winter blues. This thing would be music festivals.

For those who aren’t aware, music festivals are celebrations of being alive. The atmosphere is bursting with good vibrations. It’s such a joyous time, that people will notice if you're not having a good time. The point of a music festival is to hear good music and suspend your problems for just a few days, a rare chance with how things are going in the world.

Thanks to how far reaching social media is, you’ve probably heard of the big music festivals, even if you've never been to one. You’ve read your Facebook friends' statuses about how they can’t wait to go to Coachella, Bonnaroo, South by Southwest, Governor’s Ball, Lollapalooza... the list goes on and on.

I’ve only been to one uber-festival: Gathering of the Vibes in Bridgeport, Conn. There, I was in a haze of excitement and bad decisions, listening to music that made my spine tingle with some of my best friends. All around us, strangers danced and mingled with each other. Every single one of them gave off an aura of happiness, all contributing to the heady atmosphere.

From a musical experience standpoint, that was the best weekend. I listened to John Fogerty, from Creedence Clearwater Revival, a band I’ve listened to since I was 12, basically play a greatest hits concert. I got to see Ziggy Marley in all of his Rastafarian glory. I listened to an electronic fusion jam band called the Disco Biscuits play an all-Grateful Dead set with the drummers from the Dead, Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann.

I’ll never forget that weekend, and I don’t regret any aspect, even though I spent months crawling out of the financial hole I put myself in.That’s the only problem with big music festivals: they totally drain your money. That’s why smaller festivals are usually my style.

At Gathering of the Vibes, I had to walk what seemed like a mile to get to the stage area. Then I had to wait in line to get my bag searched and have my bracelet checked, to make sure I was supposed to be there. I understand the safety precautions, but sometimes they infringed on the time I had to watch the artists I wanted to. I would huff and puff to the stage just to wait in line for another 20 minutes, which was a huge inconvenience.

At Strange Creek, a small music festival in Massachusetts, I never ran into this problem. Security still checked bracelets, but because it was a smaller festival, I didn’t feel like cattle grazing around in line. My favorite thing about Strange Creek is that for the late night music, bands play in these small cabins which are really just a big room.

During these shows, I’m sardined between my fellow music goers. There isn’t anything separating the fans from the performers, something that doesn’t happen at big festivals. Unlike Vibes, I didn’t feel like just a number on a ticket there. It felt more like a family reunion than just strangers with the same music taste.

I’m a firm believer that every human being should experience at least one music festival. The happiness you feel there just can’t be felt at a concert. If you’re thinking about going but worrying about the cost, look for the small ones. You’d be surprised at what’s in your backyard.