We don’t enjoy a reputation for cutting loose here in the nation’s rules factory.

But inside the fence at Bluesfest, Ottawa residents can be spotted shaking their asses like they don’t give a damn what their assistant deputy minister might think. This is Ottawa with its hair down, or at least askew.

Dump thousands of us onto LeBreton Flats, add music, beer and hype, and it’s hardly a recipe for mellow predictability, as demonstrated by opening night’s somewhat disastrous crush at the gate and the ongoing human gridlock inside every night.

Those used to more regulated fun can be heard grumbling, but for Rich (Buck 65) Terfry, who is on the Hard Rock Café Stage tomorrow night at 9:30, a bit of festival chaos can also be a blessing.

“Backstage everyone’s running around, they’ve got a 100 bands that they’re trying to deal with and there’s just like a panic,” he said.

“I don’t usually like that kind of energy in people at all. I usually work very hard to avoid it in my life, but then, funny enough, when I have it inflicted on me it usually results in a good show, which is ironic and completely backwards.”

Those trying to keep this party nominally under control can also get it backwards. A friend of mine got carried away by the music the other night and actually danced a little, thereby catching the attention of security. Fortyish white guy dancing? Must be wasted. He wasn’t, but after a short interrogation, he was escorted to the gate nonetheless.

Much of the time, however, music lovers are enjoying the intoxicant of their choice in whatever quantities they can handle. On opening night, I noted the first whiff of weed at 7:06 and first public beer barf at 9:44 (neither of them mine, thanks for asking).

Getting overserved takes some doing. Lengthy beer lines can morph into an elongated rabble rife with queue-jumping, some of it quite shameless and certainly beyond what would be tolerated back outside the fence in well-behaved Ottawa.

This petty anarchy might even be catching. Fighting for space on a bus out of LeBreton, we couldn’t get anywhere near the front door, so we just slipped in the back door without paying. Don’t tell my mom.

I’m sure our dull good sense will return next week, but for now, the only hard rule is: Summer is short – enjoy it.