After we made it back to the tent Friday night, BFRB and I decided that, despite the plethora of legitimate gripes which had been trying their best to fuck up our vacation, we were going to have some fucking FUN on Saturday. Central to this plan was the following tenet, in BFRB's words: "When we get up in the morning, if I tell you I don't want to smoke, I want you to put the pipe between my lips and light it...if I can remember my name, we need to smoke another bowl." Yes, children. We planned to walk around, in the immortal words of John Prine, with "illegal smiles."
At this point, I should convey that I have never seen so much herb in one place in my life. Seriously. When you were watching performances, every few seconds, another puff of smoke would materialize. Of course, this was another of the rules that was broken. Repeatedly. "No illegal substances," my ass.
So anyway. The second part of Friday's plot involved not hanging out with Tim, our tent-neighbor. It wasn't that he was a bad guy at all. He had really helped us out. It's just that he had his own agenda for the Roo, and so we felt compelled to hurry and keep up and all that. Plus, he wanted to borrow stuff like sunscreen, which he forgot, etc. Mostly, we just wanted some time to explore on our own agenda...which included Jack Johnson, shopping, eating funnel cake, and remaining as fucked up as possible.
Saturday morning, it's raining again. We are in no rush to get moving. We smoke a little, pee in the woods, smoke some more, eat some chips, drink some Dew, finally get dressed, and slowly make our way toward Centeroo. I busted out the Wal-Mart Super-Fly Mud Boots, and my favorite jeans with a slowly widening hole in the ass. (Well, more like the leg, but it's close to the ass. Anyway.) BFRB wears her new cool sarong. And no, there are really not many pictures of us, because we were so icky we did not choose to be photographed. However, you can see my back in this picture:
On one of the walls surrounding Centeroo, people busted out the spray cans and did some cool graffiti art. Andria, you'll love this one:
As we were approaching, we could hear Gov't Mule playing on the main stage. We didn't really watch them, but the music was everywhere while we were engaging in some shopping activities. We passed by the sandal graveyard:
....and then we saw this!!!
It was at that point that both of us realized something. In our quest to survive the shit being thrown at us for the first few days, we really had not stopped to look around much. Other people registered only as obstacles in the road, or annoyances during a concert when a person like the chick BFRB dubbed "the Yankee cunt" tries to shove between you when there's nowhere to go. People had been more of a negative than a positive.
On Saturday, that changed. We were chilled enough, and relaxed enough, that we opened our eyes to the madness and crazy love that is Bonnaroo. We saw these kids in a wagon...note the bumper sticker.
The sticker, in close up:
The one with the biggest smile was a ham. When we asked if we could take a picture, he totally started mugging for the camera.
At around 5:30 or 6, we joined the crowd waiting to hear Jack Johnson. It was huge. He was on "Which Stage," which was the smaller of the two main stages. The Black Crowes were playing on the main stage. OAR was in either This Tent or That Tent. The scheduling was pretty fucked. Before the show began, so did the rain...again. Hard. We had to pick up our towels, put on our OU ponchos, and stand up. It was kind of hard to hear the music at first, because Jack is a fairly mellow kinda guy, and well, the Black Crowes were not. However, once we angled into a good position, it was amazing. He sang "Banana Pancakes," which contains the line "Can't you see that it's just raining...there's no need to go outside."
I will always remember that moment whenever I hear that song.
Remember the tree from the last entry? Well, during Jack's show, some kids (I'd guess they were probably between 10-14) started climbing it. In the rain. The back of the crowd was cheering them on, and gave the one that got to the very top a thundering round of applause. Jack Johnson noticed, and told them to be careful. Three of them sat in the tree till the end of the concert. I couldn't get pictures, because the rain was coming down so hard I feared for my camera's safety. (Plus, I have notoriously bad luck with cameras, which goes along with my notoriously imbecilic attempts at photography.) However, I found some pictures here:
Once Jack was over, we headed towards the main stage to check out Widespread Panic. By this time, my feet hurt. I wanted to SIT. So we venture toward some bleachers on the far side of the field...only to discover that they are VIP only. Therefore, what else could we do, but head toward Jack's (as in Daniels) Tent?
Yes, there were chairs...some chairs. People had already begun absconding with them (they were just plastic folding chairs). After some stalking, squabbling, and a brief span where BFRB perched on the edge of the stage (in the tent), we managed to secure two chairs, a space on a table, and several Jack Daniels Country Cocktails. Here we perched for the entirety of Widespread Panic's set. Don't even be asking me if they played this song or that song, because I have no clue. I was seated, I was buzzing, and I was just soaking up the experience.
We had planned, originally, to stay for Trey Anastasio's show at midnight. However, by the time the Panic finished, and we did a little more wandering, we decided that our tent (and the bathroom) were calling more strongly.
On the way back, we stopped at several of the "unlicensed vendor" tents set up along "Shakedown Street" (the alleged name of the mud path leading to our camp). We chatted with a guy selling tie-dyes, people selling a variety of glass pipes and t-shirts and food. After one more pit stop, we walk along the edge of the woods toward our tent.
And then we notice one more thing.
Some tent sex.
Really, over most of the weekend, there wasn't much of the hot and steamy action going on. Sure, you'd see some people holding hands, or someone like the drunk annoying guy who tried to pick up BFRB, but for the most part, it was about drugs and rock & roll, not sex. I think most people were in the same boat we were...just trying to hang in and survive the craziness.
Guess the little silhouettes on the tent decided that they were going to have some fucking fun on their vacation, too. Yeah. They had the lantern inside the tent.
By Sunday morning, rumors of an approaching hurricane were circulating amongst the tents. Keep in mind, this was in Tennessee. Last time I checked, that's not anywhere near an ocean. Also last time I checked, hurricanes form in the ocean and attack coastal cities. By the time a storm made it that far inland, it would just be rain and wind of an ordinary variety.
I will say, though, that the wind was rather fierce on Sunday morning....it blew over the shade tent. "Blew over" meaning "that shit launched in the air and rolled over some cars." We quickly started breaking down the tent and shoving our stuff in the car.
It wasn't fitting so well. So we donated bottled water to everyone staying. We still had so much left that I am just now drinking the last bottle. The poor guys behind us had run out of water on Friday, and were uber-grateful for the donation. I wish they had said something earlier.
We finally managed to cram everything in, and by that time, enough others had left that we had a clear path to freedom.
We wanted to buy a few more gifts, but all the vendors were mired in mud, and we didn't have on mud boots. However, a few brave souls came to the car with their baskets of wares...so TM, GID, and BFRB2 now own pretty glass pipes. Share the love. That's the motto.
As we were driving out of the grounds, we saw this:
A beautiful ending.
An hour later, near Nashville, we stop at Waffle House. It takes a while to get some service. People in Tennessee don't move very fast. I was beginning to fear that this would resemble the experience that BFRB and I had at Denny's...but no. We were soon rewarded with steaming hot cups of some pretty nasty coffee that still tasted wonderful. Bacon and eggs and cheesy hash browns and pancakes and OJ later, we were starting to feel almost human again.
The drive home was mostly uneventful. We did see a really tacky-ass Billboard for the Lord..."Jesus Loves You...and So Do Southern Baptists."
About 50 miles from home, the heavens opened. Welcome back to Oklahoma, wayfarers. Here's a blinding thunderstorm and some tornado warnings. We had to pull over, and found an abandoned gas station with a canopy, where we were soon joined by a dozen other cars. Once the storm eased, we made tracks. We dumped the shit in BFRB's storage unit, and finally arrived home.
Now, for the Bonnaroo challenge. The titles of all the entries have been song lyrics. First person to correctly identify title and artist wins a Loopy Mix CD.