Definition: In this task, you are given a Reddit post as a text. Your task is to generate a title for this text. The title should start with "TIFU by", followed by a situation that caused humor. The title should contain 7-12 words, ideally.
Input: Text: i am using my cake day as an excuse to tell a tale that occurred almost 5 years ago. enjoy!

my experience with “the beyond” can be amounted to an ill-advised trip to a steampunk festival. for those unfamiliar with “steampunk,” it’s essentially a subgenre of fantasy/science-fiction that delves into steam-powered technology with a 19th century victorian aesthetic. but for five ignorant college bros reaching the end of their sophomore year, without a single clue of what this culture entailed, “steampunk” would transcend the mere label of subgenre…

before i delve into this surreal memory, let me tell you where i was at, and the events that led up to this fateful trip to the beyond. it was spring of 2013 in the city of new brunswick, new jersey. like most college students, i was a confused individual thirsting for the meaning of life and the essence of the self. even then, everything seemed like a blur, but if there was one thing that was crystal clear, it was music. music has the power to create bonds; my roommates, mike and dick, were both entranced by this band, steam powered giraffe, and eventually they turned me on to their enchanting harmonies, wonderfully complimenting my excessive ketamine use at the time. (oh the k-holes we fall into.) 

once word broke out that steam powered giraffe was playing a show at a nearby radisson, we all knew serendipitously that this would be our glorious “hoorah” to sophomore year. we invited two mutual friends from out of town, shane and robbie, to join us in the festivities. they were also quite familiar with the band, and completely unfamiliar with the culture. 

so...the first pitfall we fell into was not understanding what the “steam” in “steam powered giraffe” implied. the second was ever trusting a radisson hotel. but giving credit to where it’s due: the radisson delivered.  

on the day of the performance, shane and robbie arrived, and all of us gathered in the living room to smoke a bowl and buy tickets. and upon further internet research about this concert at the radisson, we learned we were about to enter a world we were not accustomed to, for this was not just a concert, but an entire festival. 

so what a perfect time to mention that mike had been saving five tablets of lsd for five adventurous boys! he’d been waiting to try lsd ever since he woke up from a two-week long coma, no lie. so after the tickets were ordered, the acid was dropped. 

a few hours pass, and somewhere, in the midst of five giggling dipshits, was an idea. an idea that would change the course of the entire experience. i forgot who, but either mike, dick, or myself, proposed that we would cosplay for the festival.

i assumed the role of “reginald steamclaw,” a smooth-talking inventor who sported a victorian aesthetic, complete with an eye-patch and a prop “freddy krueger” glove. mike wore a vest, hardly looking the part, but we were on acid so it just seemed like everything was on point. shane and robbie decided to go as themselves, respectively. and then there’s the aptly-named, dick.

mike, shane, robbie, and i impatiently waited in a cab outside. dick was still “getting ready.” finally, after a few uncomfortable minutes, the car door opened, and i swear, i never felt more claustrophobic in my life. it was like every bad memory i ever had manifested into a pointing finger, shaming me for all the poor decisions i’ve made. dick assumed the role of “american man,” the ultimate threat to the steampunk culture, sporting business-casual attire, a fourth-of-july party hat, and an american flag as a cape. my acid-fueled brain was trying to justify dick’s act. was this genius or flat out wrong? this kid was pre-med after all. the cab driver was not having any of it, and even suspected "american man" of having a weapon on him. 

the moment the cab dropped us off outside the radisson parking lot (where a majority of the festival took place), the boys and i were almost immediately the enemy. a cast of eccentric characters wandered the parking lot, and the many we encountered, glared at us for mocking their way of life. one individual, in particular, stared us down while cracking a whip. it only took a couple of vicious stares for dick to remove his “american man” costume, in fear that someone would bludgeon him with a pair of brass goggles. 

at this point, i’m not sure if we lost each other, or decided to split up, but either way, all of us ended up separated, with only two working phones. alone and slightly terrified, the effect of the acid only grew more intense, further testing the bounds of reality. 

i stumbled upon a ballroom where a formal victorian dance party was indeed occurring. the best way i can describe this room is “eyes wide shut”.  so i began interacting with the guests, and an eerie woman with lavish wings approached me, appearing oddly sensual. i said to her in a pseudo-british voice, “i like your wings.” she responded, seductively, “i like your claws...but they’re plastic.” suddenly, as if a disc scratched, the ball came to an abrupt halt. i’m not even kidding. all eyes seemed to be on me, and with the power of improvisation, i responded, morosely,  “as is my heart.” close one. the ball continued, and at this point, i was fully immersed into this character out of fear of being sought out as an outsider.

i stood on the sidelines of the dancefloor, trying to collect myself. my heart was racing, my skin was sweating, my throat was dry, and just before i thought it couldn’t possibly get any more real, i saw a monkey. it was one of the most creative cosplays i’ve ever seen. this mysterious man was in heavy “planet of the apes”-esque makeup, sporting a comically oversized top-hat. he was walking flamboyantly across the dancefloor, stealing drinks off trays, and stealing people’s dates with such irresistible charm. i was convinced it was johnny depp. made perfect sense to me that he’d want to cosplay under-the-radar at a steampunk festival in new jersey. 

i took a deep breath, and before i knew it, the monkey was beside me. “there you are, reginald!” 

i stuttered, “ugh, yes, there you are, i‘ve been...waiting for you?”

an improvised relationship began to formulate between our characters. he then introduced me to his silent human-slave, jonathan, who, no bullshit, was dressed as an astronaut, and was subordinately chained to the bar. ("jonathan" may or may not have been his real name...). i told the monkey that i had been looking for my friends. i began explaining what they looked like, and what they were wearing. all of a sudden, a vendor, adjacent to the bar, claimed he saw one of my friends. “yes, i remember your patriotic companion, he was at the game room.” he then gave me a map of the radisson, and told me to “meander” down a path a little outside of the festival. “oh, perfect, an adventure,” the monkey proclaimed.

the monkey, his human slave, and i traveled to this strange location on the map. we were lucky to run into my friend mike, whom we then rescued from two plague doctors on stilts who were surrounding him like vultures circling their prey. mike looked terrified, and his confusion was only heightened by the introduction of the monkey and jonathan, who was being dragged around with a chain leash. poor guy just woke up from a fucking coma. and at some point, robbie appeared. he had been smoking jays in the parking lot to calm his anxiety. 

the walk towards the game room, with every step, became increasingly chilling, as everyone fell silent. jonathan was already a mute, apparently, but clearly something wasn’t right. we reached the game room, which was a large, ominous tent. i even broke character, and asked the monkey what was up with the game room. he responded with more “steampunk” jargon that i was obviously not aware of. mike, robbie and i approached the entrance to the tent. i noticed that the monkey and jonathan suspiciously stayed behind. the monkey then shouted, “reginald, wait, it’s a trap. the vendor was a trickster!” 

before i could even rationally respond, mike and robbie were already in the tent. i walked inside; it was a dark hallway leading to a red door. like a kubrickian nightmare, these suggestive, synchronized cyborgs danced along the sides of the hall, emitting erotic moans, pointing towards the red door. i saw mike in front of me. but to the left of me, i noticed robbie peering into an entrance to another room. in that room, i swear on my life, was a large man in a green wig, wearing a diaper, grinning at us in the most unnerving way. the what-the-fuck-o-meter was off the charts.

mike was nervously waiting for me at the red door. i immediately grabbed him by the shoulder, and we left the tent. we never found out what existed beyond that door, but i imagine it was some horrific, robot orgy. wasn’t having any of it.

eventually, we were able to regroup with the rest of the bunch. shane apparently spent the majority of his trip at a pottery tent making a gift for his significant other. the monkey and jonathan were nowhere to be seen. so without almost any verbal communication, we all collectively came to the agreement to get the fuck out of there. i didn't even get to see steam powered giraffe perform.

towards the end of the night, we gathered in mike’s room, and passed around four maybe five blunts...to no avail. no amount of weed in the world could make sense of what we all experienced. and by no means were we the heroes of this tale. we mocked a culture, and they fired back on all cylinders. but if i gained anything from this journey, it was that i never wanted to act and perform more in my life up until that point. i suppose that’s the beautiful takeaway. dick is almost done with medical school; helping people. 

the worst part is that we don’t even know if any of this actually happened. it wasn’t until maybe a few months later that the boys and i learned that our acid tablets had been laced with pcp…

and, these days, i often wonder what the monkey is up to. was he real or a figment of my imagination? and then i’ll see a trailer for some shitty johnny depp movie coming out, and my mind is at ease.

 

edit: thank you for reading! i addressed my friends and added/corrected some details for authenticity. 

edit: spelling

TIFU by dropping acid at a Steampunk Festival (without knowing what Steampunk was)