On Friday morning, I woke up and had two thoughts. The first thought was “Did I get run over by a tank last night?” and the second thought was “I wonder if Ian is alive.” He texted me as I was reaching for my phone to tell me that he’d discovered a giant Meatwad on the premises, so at least that question was answered.
I peeled myself out of the bed, grimaced at the huge blisters that had formed under my toes (right where the toes meet the ball of the foot), and then cursed my formerly beloved Columbia flip flops. Oh, sure, you were so padded and comfy for the past four years that I’ve worn you, but I decide to dance around on gravel and dirt for 12 hours and all of a sudden I might as well have been barefoot. Actually, I bet going barefoot would have yielded fewer blisters.
So I did about 10 minutes of stretching and random yoga poses and, believe it or not, I began to feel better. I totally had party voice, though, something that wouldn’t go away completely until mid Sunday.
Ian had asked Emily and I to bring a few things back in with us to his campsite Friday when we came in, so we ran over to Walgreens, Food Lion and the liquor store to gather up everything we needed for ourselves (mostly more sunscreen–SPF 110 this time, as Emily was dealing with a pretty bad sunburn from her time at the beach the week before) and for Ian and Scott. Then we re-packed our Camelbaks for the day and headed out. Two notes: 1. Camelbaks are the most amazing idea ever, and 2. While we saw several guys having to dump their Camelbaks full of water at the checkin gate, Emily and I were never asked to. Either the checkers were partial to womenfolk or we were really good at creating a diversion as soon as they got near the bladder in the back of the bags. My tactic was to point out my phone and camera in my pants pockets, causing them to stop looking in the bag and focus on what I had in my pants instead.
THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID.
We got to Bonnaroo a little after noon, and realized we had a shit-ton of stuff to carry over to Ian. Well, it wasn’t really that much, but it was heavy. Twenty pounds of ice, a 12-pack of beer, a fifth of vodka, a jug of spicy V-8 and a large bottle of cranberry juice. We made it about halfway in and I texted Ian to come up and meet us, because it was already a bullshit 100 degrees outside and I felt like a handicapped burro trying to lug all that shit.
Once we got all that crap toted to Ian and Scott’s campsite, we headed into Centeroo to catch the end of Matt & Kim’s set, and then I think we wandered around some more. Honestly, we did a lot of wandering around the entire time we were there. I can’t remember everything we did; various scenes from the weekend pop in and out of my brain in random, non-linear memory modules. I wanted to see the Freelance Whales acoustic set on the Sonic Stage, and I’m pretty sure the only reason Ian and Scott stayed there with us was because we found shade under a tree and I spread out the disposable vinyl tablecloth Lesley and Crystal insisted I bring with. Another lifesaving piece of advice from those gals, as I preferred not to have my ass covered in dust and dirt any more than necessary.
After Freelance Whales we wandered over to the woodfired flatbread pizza place and ate some really amazing pizza. We found a little spot in between the pizza place and a drum vendor’s tent that we ended up coming back to repeatedly. It was back away from the line of traffic but still close enough to Which Stage that we could hear the acts that played there (as long as a nearby small tent didn’t have someone screaming and playing their guitar like they were mad at it), and the later it got in the afternoon the more shade it provided. It eventually became our go-to place throughout the festival, and there were several “Meet me at the drum tent” texts sent back and forth during the remainder of the weekend.
Emily and I went to see Florence + The Machine after that, which was a GREAT show despite not being able to see anything. We’re both a little wary of trying to make it to the front of a crowd that looks like it will squeeze and swallow you whole, so we weren’t going to try to elbow anyone to get up near the front.
After the show I think we walked around a bit more, and then eventually met up with Ian and Scott for the Primus show over at Which Stage around 9 p.m.. This turned out to be the perfect Bonnaroo storm—cooler temps, a chill vibe in the crowd, paragliders showering blue glitter down on everyone below—and I lay on the vinyl tablecloth I’d spread out for all of us to share, alternating between looking up at the sky feeling peaceful and glancing around at the various hula-hooping girls feeling the beat of the music.
When Primus finished we all got up and walked around a bit more, and then headed over to Arcade Fire at What Stage. It was packed, but they had large screens up so we could mostly see what was going on. After they finished, Emily and I walked Ian and Scott back to their tent and then we headed back to the car, once again guided by our Optimus Prime helium balloon floating around in the faint yet much appreciated breeze.
As we approached the car (which was parked right by the road out that night), a parking attendant walked up to us and asked if we had any beer in the car. I apologetically told him we did not, but offered him one of our unopened Gatorade bottles from the cooler in the trunk. He thanked us profusely, and then asked me if I wanted to hit his pipe one time. I thanked him but declined, smiling to myself about what a perfectly Bonnaroo-esque day we had had.
