Category: Stories

Powerless

KaBump by Umphrey’s McGee
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/UM2008-02-11.mk6/um2008-02-11d2t05_64kb.mp3,http://www.archive.org/download/UM2008-02-11.mk6/um2008-02-11d2t06_64kb.mp3]

On Wednesday, from 1400 to 0400 on Thursday, Towers didn’t have power. Something about a transformer exploding…decepticons…I dunno. Whatever the case, that left all of us without TVs, computers, or lights (at least in our rooms). The lights in the halls still worked, and as the sun set people started moving into the halls.

For a while there were very few of us there (5 or 6 max) because UConn was playing Notre Dame, and I guess people care about those kinds of things. Those few of us who didn’t sat in the hall, killing time. We drew on the massive whiteboard I have in my room, I did a little reading, played banjo, talked. One of the girls sitting in the hall with us was complaining how it was the worst day of her life…

Folks started coming back from the game, so suddenly there were a lot of people with nothing to do. A few people just left, going to the library or a friend’s dorm. Everyone else decided to play a board game in the hall. I read instead, since it was one of those party pseudo-board games I can’t really stand. About an hour after that game was over, I realized and said to Dan, “I’m finally out of things to do.” I started tossing a stress ball against the wall.

After a little while I moved that out into the hall. I hit a bunch of people with it accidentally, and then not so accidentally, and that was when the first event of the night started. There was a group of people on either end of our hall, and we took turns hucking it as hard as we could at the other group. No rules, no goal, just pointless fun. Like the games we used to play in elementary school. That went on for a few hours, with people coming and going and coming back again or walking out unwittingly into the crossfire.

Finally everyone was tired of that, or had tired out their throwing arm (we were really whipping it) and it dissolved. Another pseudo-board game had started up, and other people were just milling around the hall. I suggested to the people just standing around that we should rolly-chair joust. Somehow, these people had gone to school for one or more years and had never rolly-chair jousted. So Dan and I brought our chairs out, and we were the first up. We didn’t really have anything to joust with, so we just held our arms out straight in front of us. We each went to one side, and then someone pushed us to give us some speed. My favourite description of it came from someone who didn’t even see it. He saw me and Josh (who was pushing me) back up against the end of the hall, and then we started, leaving his field of vision, and after two seconds of silence, there was a massive crash. He came around the corner and saw Dan and I on the ground laughing.

I’ve gotta admit, this was the most hardcore rolly-chair jousting I’ve ever done. Dan and I were facing each other when we hit, and I got his knee right in my thigh (I was limping around for a while – it still kinda hurts now) and he got the metal part of my chair against his shin (which actually drew blood). Neither of us cared too much about the pain, and we convinced (well, maybe forced) the folks who had pushed us to take our place for a second round. I liked this, because Josh came away with a footprint on his chest. For the record, my chair dew blood again. Battle chair.

The CAs said we really couldn’t do that anymore, since apparently it was loud enough that they could hear it on the first floor. It was getting late anyway, and I had to somehow wake up for class. I went to bed, and within an hour it sounded like most people had left the halls. That Wednesday night felt more like a Friday night than any Friday has so far.

Grey Fox 2008

The Bluegrass Country by the Del McCoury Band
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/del2001-07-21a.shnf/del01-07-21a10_64kb.mp3]

It has been a few years coming, but it seems that the farm that has been home to the Grey Fox Bluegrass Festival, and the Winterhawk Bluegrass Festival before that, and the Berkshire Mountain Music Festival before that, has been sold. I’ve gone to this festival every year of my life, and it has always been on the Rothvoss Family Farm in Ancramdale, NY.

A few years back, when we went up on the hill fully believing that it was the last year we would have there, I brought up a camera of my own for the first time. That was when I took these pictures, hoping I’d be able to remember the place itself. There aren’t many pictures of the stage or the performers because many other photographers have taken far better pictures of those subjects than I ever will. But I tried to take pictures that would remind me of walking around the hill, what it sounded like sitting in the amphitheater, or the sound of the music I heard from my tent as I drifted off to sleep. We were lucky enough to get two more festivals before the sale of the farm was official.

There are folks who I see only once a year at Grey Fox, and they’re as close as any friends I have. There was a certain atmosphere on the hill that came from both the people and the place. The people will certainly stay with the festival as it moves, but what I hope for more than anything is that the atmosphere comes with them.

I’m grateful for the 21 years I had on the hill. I’m certainly sad to have to move on. Grey Fox was always my image of a perfect society, and I’ve always identified it as home – where I felt most comfortable. I just hope I can keep the memories of the hill alive in my mind.

I’m going to try and post some stories from the hill over the coming weeks.

Three Years On

Three years ago, a massive earthquake in the Indian Ocean created a tsunami we’re all now familiar with. When I see news reports about the anniversary, I can’t help but remember it.

I had been cruising around online, and noticed a breaking story about a disaster somewhere in the Pacific which had killed 10,000 people. That caught my attention. The report didn’t have much info, so I went downstairs to see what CNN had to tell me. They did cover it, but gave me no new information, and after spending a couple minutes on it, went to a commercial break promising to return with a story about post-holiday shopping. It was at this point in my life that I gave up on mainstream media. They have a time and a place, but 99% of the time they’re filled with worthless garbage. I turned off the TV and went back to my computer, and followed the story online. The death toll slowly increased throughout the day as the impact of the tsunami was realized. I didn’t hear about it from anyone else until the next day.

10,000 non-americans isn’t enough for CNN to care (although it should be noted that their five minute blurb was more than any other news station). Maybe they’re learned their lesson since then, but that was really appalling. I told a friend about this some weeks later, and he replied “Yes, but they’re worthless people.” He was joking, but it still reflected some truth.

When the final death toll came in around 100,000, people seemed to care. I don’t know. In America, anything involving 30 or so people dying is automatically news for a few days, no matter how little information they may have. I’m not trying to call for a change, although I would like to see one, I’m just pointing out how sad it all is.

Random

Don’t Ease Me In by The Grateful Dead
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/gd85-03-29.oade-schoeps.sacks.23475.sbeok.flacf/gd85-03-29oade-d1t08_64kb.mp3]

A week ago I was in the library, 5 minutes before my Philosophy class started. I was printing out the homework due that day (the printer in my room doesn’t work at the moment). I noticed another dude from my class doing the same thing. We both sent out assignments to the communal printer at about the same time, but he got to it first. The way the communal printer works, is it displays the queued documents, the user selects which they want to print, then they pay for them and the document prints. Turns out both he and I printed from Google Docs, so they were indistinguishable on the screen (just the Google Docs url). So he printed out his, and went on to class, and afterwards I did the same. I noticed on my way to class that I had his paper, so I suspected he had mine. I didn’t say anything to him, and he didn’t say anything to me. In fact, we never acknowledged that the mix-up ever occured. Not before, during, or after class. As we left the room once class had ended, he handed in my assignment (I checked to make sure he had in fact handed in my assignment, and he had), and I handed in his.

Maybe he never looked at his paper, and never noticed that the name on there wasn’t his, or the answer underneath that was shorter and differently formatted than his. But I doubt that. I’m pretty sure he noticed, and just went with it. I think that’s pretty cool.

New York, NY

Went to NY with Ali this weekend to see some friends, sights, etc. I enjoyed the city a lot more than I did on previous visits, and I’m pretty sure its because we did the city at night. Daytime in NY gives me a headache, and on top of that I don’t like the rush. Nighttime is different. We did a lot, and I could tell a lot of different stories, but I’ll just tell the one anecdote that stands out from this weekend.

At some point on Saturday, someone commented on/started singing/started humming Mahna Mahna. Slowly, it crept into everyone’s mind, and refused to be stopped. Later into the night, we started bursting into song, because we just couldn’t keep it inside. While hanging around the Bamn! Automat (which I very much enjoyed, even if I didn’t eat there) Max decided to try and get people on the street to join in with us in song. He went up to the corner, and started singing/humming, and one by one we joined him, as if we were just passersby, caught up in the magic of the song. We got a couple other folks to join in with us, but for the most part people just walked past us, bemused.

This wasn’t nearly satisfying, so we started to look for another target. Across the street were two musicians, playing trombone and accordian, playing traditional klezmer songs. We walked up to them, and waited for them to finish the song they had been playing before tossing the Mahna Mahna ball into their court. Quickly, they picked up on what we were doing and started to jam along, creating an entirely new beast of a song. Max was clever enough to think of recording it, and hopefully I’ll be able to get a copy. Once that was finished, they started back up with their own repertoire, with us clapping and dancing along. Soon, a crowd had gathered to hear these guys play. Some in the crowd were musicians with instruments in hand, and before long they had joined in as well. Now we had a five piece band consisting of a soprano saxophone, fiddle, guitar, trombone and accordian, with a mass dancing and clapping people around it all. On a street corner in New York City. At 4 in the morning.

Story Time

Tornado Warning by Codename
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/codename2006-08-19.flac16/codename2006-08-19.d1t02_64kb.mp3]

I’ve been wanting to create this category for a long while now. In fact, I’ve wanted to make it since Grey Fox this year. The idea is that I’ll write stories of long ago in here, so that I’ll actually remember them. A perfect example of this is making this category. I mention that I’ve wanted to make it for a while, because its true. But whenever I’m on my blog I don’t remember it. The only reason I remembered it today is because someone reminded me of something that happened to us which I had forgotten about, and I thought about writing it on here. Which made me remember the Stories category. So here it is. I’ll probably go back and apply it to older posts that fit in. If there are any.

Anyway, the story I wanted to tell today is one that happened to me freshman year of school. Many of my friends and I were in ENGR 100, which is the Intro to Engineering class. It was only worth one credit, and was more or less a joke class. Everyone in the School of Engineering had to take it at some point, so we had to take it as well. There was no final exam, but there was a final project that we had to complete. We had to Reverse Engineer something. Meaning, we had to break something down and explain how it was put together and how it worked. We were allowed to work with other people on this, so I worked with my friend Eric.

For some reason we chose a microscope. Seemed simple enough: two lenses, a long tube, and a tray for stuff to go on. And we were right, it was pretty simple. There was only one problem. When we went to go take pictures of us taking it apart, and pictures of individual parts, we found ourselves without a microscope. I had thought I had one at home, and Eric did as well, but neither of us could find one. We didn’t want to waste money on this one credit class, so didn’t want to buy one. Instead, we managed to get a friend to take pictures of his microscope, and email them to us. We managed to make a almost presentable project, Which we got a D- on.

Now, I say we got a D-, but as far as we were concerned it had been a perfect score. Not only had we done our project without the object the project was about, but we had passed. I make a point of that because there were many, many people who didn’t pass. Many. Including some of our friends, who had worked longer, harder, and actually had the thing they were reverse engineering. I’m still proud of that, and I’m glad Eric reminded me of it.

Bonnaroo: the End

All Bonnaroo Saga posts: tag/Bonnaroo 07

Rhythm of the Road by The String Cheese Incident
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/sci1999-12-31.dsbd.shnf/sci1999-12-31d2/sci1999-12-31d2t06_64kb.mp3]

Monday morning I woke up alone. I was even farther away from the nearest tent, because people had either left late last night or before I awoke. I was sitting in the door of my tent eating my breakfast (since the table and shade were gone). While I was eating and watching folks go by, mostly to or from their morning shower, a guy walking by noticed me.
“Peace and love.”
“Huh?”
“Peace and love, man, peace and love.”
“Ya.”
Now, I know that isn’t the right response. It was early, I was eating. But that dude put me in a good mood for the rest of the day. I wish more fests had more of that guy. I don’t know who you are dude, but peace and love.

I got out of my tent and took a shower (a little more difficult since I didn’t have anything to hang it on anymore) and with the water that was left rinsed off as much dust from my tent as possible. My tent was pretty caked in dust, and took about two days of hanging outside when I got home for it to come clean. Or, at least cleaner. I started to pack up my crap, and within an hour of waking up I was ready to go. The thing is, I didn’t really want to go. Not only did I not know the way out, but I didn’t have anything to do until my bus came at 1215. I eventually figured that it would be good to get in line since a lot of people would probably be leaving Bonnaroo, and I didn’t want to miss another bus.

I set out walking from the direction we came in. I think. I asked a volunteer on the way, but he didn’t know: “I’m from Virginia!” Oh well. As I get closer to my vague destination I realize I had gone the right way. I keep walking, on the road at this point, and soon I’m walking alongside the line of cars waiting to leave. The line was pretty long, but steadily moving. Near as I could tell, I was the only person leaving on foot. There were locals out on their lawns, watching the cars go by. There were people who had staked out a good spot on the side of the road, trying to hitch a ride. I met a homeless dude who wanted to buy my tent. I gave him what I had left of my loaf of bread (more than half) and kept going. I found a 12 pack of Coke someone had tossed out of their car onto the side of the road. I grabbed a can, figuring I’d want it at some point.

A little further down the road I glance behind me to see the line, and I notice there are half a dozen people following me. That really freaked me out, because I had thought I was walking alone. I slowed my pace a little so I could talk to them. Turns out they were all headed to the Greyhound station as well, but they didn’t know how to get there. We walked a little further, along the road with the line of cars. Running parallel to this road was the highway, a fence and maybe 20 feet of grass separating us from it. Looking across the highway, we saw a gas station, where we figured the Greyhound stop was. We considered running across the highway for a few minutes, but only two of them had backpacks, and the others didn’t want to run with their luggage. As we abandoned that idea, a state trooper pulled up next to us cautioning us not to cross the highway. We told him we wouldn’t and he went on. Once I pulled out my Google Maps printout we found out that it was the wrong gas station anyway.

Further down the road, we noticed that there were a lot of flashing lights on the highway, and that a 18-wheeler had flipped on its side. Its something when you see this from the highway, but when you’re walking next to it you get to really take it in. Its pretty crazy to imagine something that big turning on its side. I’d hate to be around when it happened. Farther down, guys were selling tshirts. I’d seen a few of the knockoff designs. One was really good, better than the one Bonnaroo was selling. One was terrible, tie-dyed with massive obnoxious lettering. The one these guys were selling looked like the official one, but on a white shirt instead of a deep blue shirt. And it was only $10 (Bonnaroo’s was $25-30). So I grabbed a shirt, and someone else from the group I had joined did as well.

A little further down the road we meet a dude who offers us a ride. This dude was awesome, none of us really wanted to walk all that way, and this guy just popped in and saved the day. We walk back a little ways to this parking lot on a field next to that same road, where his SUV is parked. I’m really happy he didn’t have a small car. We somehow crammed all our crap in the back, and then the five of them squeezed in the back seat (I got to sit alone in the passenger seat. I guess none of them felt comfortable sitting on a stranger’s lap. I’m not complaining). I learned more about these folks as we made small talk with the guy giving us a ride. They were all a little younger than me (17-19) and this had been their first year there as well. Our driver had an amusing Henna Tattoo on the palm of his hand that read Lo Sabes (You Know). He said he got real drunk and didn’t remember why he got that phrase, but he’d get to enjoy it for the next month. He dropped us off at the gas station and went on his way (I’m not sure where that was).

We got there with a lot of extra time since we hadn’t walked, and figured we go to the Waffle House next to the gas station. None of us had ever been to one before, but they were all over the south (that and Shoney’s, which I didn’t visit). Waffle House was good, and the waitresses there were fun to chat with. There were lots of folks coming from Bonnaroo, so we got to trade a few stories. I sat at the bar next to the two girls from the group that followed me. I can’t say I remember both of their names, but they were fun to talk to, despite not having and crazy Bonnaroo stories of their own. Suddenly someone walked in the door, and all the waitresses look up and say “Hello!” I was totally weirded out, and gave one of them a questioning look. She looked at me and said “We have to. Actually I’m supposed to be over there opening doors for people. Ooops.” That sucks, enforced southern hospitality. But the food was good, and the waitresses weren’t too candid with their dislike of the requirements, and were fun to talk to. I’m surprised none of them had gone to the fest though. Most were high-school or college aged girls, and not one of them said they’d gone.

I finished eating and left before that group was done. I’d run out of small talk and didn’t want to just sit there staring at them eat. Over at the gas station twenty or thirty people were sitting on the pavement (not out of the way, either, right where cars should be). A couple buses were there, but it was early, and my bus to Atlanta wouldn’t come for an hour or so. I sat down and waited. Next to me, a representative from Greyhound named Gary was busy talking into his cell phone. He was trying to make sure everyone got on a bus. My ride home went off without a hitch, and I credit Gary. In fact, that’s the only reason I remember his name. He called in some extra buses, and everyone got to where they were going. I left on a bus going to Atlanta about an hour before mine was supposed to come. No complaints there. While I was on the bus waiting to leave, I noticed the folks I had eaten with get on another bus. I had thought they were going the same way as me, but I guess not.

Whatever the case, my bus went straight to Atlanta. Atlanta is a big terminal (not as big as NY, but bigger than the rest I’d been in). I got in line at my gate, and we started to wrap around the terminal. The line for our gate was definitely the biggest in the whole place. Our line was so big, there were three lines. No joke. There was the initial line that came away from the door, then our line that went off to the right, another line off to the left, and a line between us (in case you’re wondering, our line was the real one). This got me and the folks around me a little concerned, as no one wanted to miss this bus. A guy behind me was on his way to NY because he was having a kid, and he was damn sure not going to miss the bus. Like on the way down, I’m pretty sure everyone got on. I honestly don’t recall who I sat next to, because I slept as much as I possibly could.

There were a lot of people on that bus coming from Bonnaroo, but they weren’t the Bonnaroo crowd that I like. These guys tormented this mexican woman who was sitting near them. She was talking on her cell phone (not really loudly) and they got pissed. Later they were bugging her about how loudly she was chewing her food. A few people and I called them out on it, and they eventually stopped. Jerkoffs.

I got to NY the next day around 1400. Yes, the next day…and all my buses had run on schedule. We were actually a little early. Its a long trip. In NY I met Bus Nazi. I got in line for the bus to New Britain, but a bus was coming before mine, that I was unaware of. So when I went to get on the bus, this was brought to my attention by Bus Nazi, and I stepped aside so people could get on. I figured I’d wait until they had all gotten on, and then get back in line. Bus Nazi didn’t like this plan, and told me to step back. So I go over to where the line ends, but that isn’t good enough. “You’re blocking people!” I look around. I’m not. So I ask if I can just sit over in this nook near the door, where I couldn’t possibly block anyone, and would still be near the line. “No. We don’t let people sit there.” Ok. I walk over to some hall and wait for them to finish loading, and when the bus leaves, I head back over in line. That bus left at 1500, and mine came at 1715. I sat down and wrote some more. As 1715 approaches, the line gets bigger and bigger. Bus Nazi comes over to make sure everyone is in order. “Is your luggage checked?” I admit it was pretty amusing seeing him try and guide those teenagers from Switzerland to the baggage check. Their english wasn’t that great. “Does your child have a ticket?” He was talking to a mother who had a young kid, maybe 3 or 4 with her. It turns out that only kids under 2 are allowed on without a ticket. So she gets her friend who was with her to save her spot while she goes to get the ticket. At some point she came back and started to yell at Bus Nazi. She couldn’t afford the ticket, or didn’t want to pay it, and was upset, since the kid was just going to sit on her lap. Bus Nazi wouldn’t hear it, and when she started to cus him out, he made sure she wouldn’t be allowed on the bus. When we loaded, without issue, a girl got off the bus and asked Bus Nazi (who turned out to be our driver) if she could go grab a drink before the bus left. He said no, and she wasn’t happy with this. The drinking fountain was visible from the bus, but he said we were leaving soon, and she should get on the bus. Water Girl starts to cuss out Bus Nazi because apparently she is really thirsty. Bus Nazi is not pleased, and kicks her off the bus. Now, when I say he kicked her off the bus, I mean he said she wouldn’t be allowed on the bus. She got right back on. He went and called security, who got there a few minutes later, to drag her off the bus. Her friend, who was traveling with her, got off as well. So that’s 4 people Bus Nazi kicked off our bus. And now we’re 15 minutes late. Thanks, you’ve done us all a favor. When he got on the intercom to tell us all the rules and the standard bus spiel, he mentioned that someone had tried to jump him earlier that day because of some bus related incident. You think he’d take the hint.

Got back to New Britain a little after 2000; my dad was already there waiting. We got in the car and drove home.

Thus ends my Bonnaroo Story. I’m happy I went, but I doubt I’ll go back.

Sunday Tunes

All Bonnaroo Saga posts: tag/Bonnaroo 07

Mr. Meowskers by The Slip
[audio:http://theslip.com/mp3/TheSlipMrMeowskers.mp3]

I left the site around 11, and I think I was trying to find a tshirt. I knew there was a Bonnaroo merchandise tent somewhere in Centeroo, but I couldn’t find it. I wandered around for a while, looking at some of the other things for sale in Centeroo (nothing really worth buying). Defeated, I headed over to the Sonic Stage to get a good spot for The Slip. The Sonic Stage is a really tiny stage, so almost anywhere you get is a good spot, but I got a spot in the shade right in front of the stage. Shade is important, especially since most of my Sunday shows were out in the sun, away from the tents. The Slip put on a really good show, at least as good as it could be in a half-hour. I really dig the bassist from the Slip. He’s good, and has a lot of fun playing.

I wandered over to see Pete Yorn at the same stage the Flaming Lips had played the night before. There were three trees near this stage (pretty far back, but not far enough so you couldn’t hear or see), and under them were people from one edge of shade to the other. I grabbed a spot in the sun where I figured the shade would be in 10 minutes or so (I was half right: I got partial shade, but that was mostly luck. If I had stayed longer I would have been back out in the sun). Pete Yorn was good, and chill, but not memorable.

I left a little early to go to the Other Tent, but I messed up and ended up at This Tent. I didn’t realize until an hour or so after I got there, and by that time I didn’t really care. So I saw the last bit of Sonya Kitchell’s set, which was also good, and also chill, and also not memorable. But what was good about this was I was in a tent, sitting down, in the shade. There were very few people standing for this show, and I started to realize that Sunday was a chill day, and the folks in charge had constructed it that way on purpose. I’ve got to give them a hand for that. When that set ended I laid down to take a nap, still thinking I was at The Other Tent. I was expecting T-Bone Burnett to come on next.

But when the soundcheck woke me up, it was not T-Bone Burnett on stage. This was about when I realized I was in the wrong tent. Turns out I was watching Elvis Perkins in Dearland. They were running a little late, but the crowd didn’t much care – most people were sitting down or asleep. During the soundcheck he realized one of his microphones didn’t work, so he spun it around toward the crowd and said into the good one, “Fuck it, this can be your mic.” Laughter and applause as the set started. I’d never heard Elvis Perkins before, but I had heard his name. They weren’t bad – I can’t say I remember any of their songs, but I enjoyed the set.

After their set I got up, well rested, and headed over to the mainstage to see Bob Weir and Ratdog. For those of you who don’t know, Bob Weir was one of the original members of the Grateful Dead. So at a fest like Bonnaroo, there were plenty of people in attendance. I stayed for a couple songs…no, maybe it was the rest of the set. That sounds plausible. Ratdog is a decent band, and its nice to hear some old Dead songs from the folks who made them, but there is something off. Maybe its that they’re trying to keep too many elements of the Grateful Dead, maybe its because they’re just a decent band and nothing more. I’m not sure what it is, but I doubt I’d go to see a show with only them.

After Ratdog I was back over to the other large (Which) stage to see the Decemberists. The shadow from those trees was long enough that many more people were shaded, but the crowd was much larger, and all on their feet. I’m alright with the Decemberists, but I didn’t much care to stick around for their live show. Maybe I would have stayed if I had been farther up, or able to sit down, but since neither was the case, I left.

Looking at the schedule now, I probably should have gone to see Ralph Stanley but I didn’t notice he was playing opposite the Decemberists at the time. So I tried again to find that merchandise booth to get a tshirt. When I got there, they were out, so I grabbed a sticker which got added to my laptop once I was home. I wasn’t upset about the tshirt though. There were plenty of people selling either knock-offs or their own versions. Those folks would be around during the mainstage shows, and probably on the road on the way out.

I headed back to the site after this. I had gotten a couple overpriced slices of pizza (the first food I bought during the fest) during Ratdog, but they left me wanting more, and since I would be out all night, I figured I’d go back and get my own food. When I got back Charles and Melissa had packed up and left. That must have been entertaining, considering how they were on their way in. And our neighbors who had invited us over were almost done packing their things. I talked to them and they said they’d stay for the White Stripes and Widespread that night, but they would leave after that to avoid the line in the morning (they were low on gas). I said goodbye, and headed back to Centeroo.

So from there I travelled to Wilco at the mainstage. Again, I sought shade. Here, the only unclaimed shade was next to the garbage cans, and it certainly wasn’t completely unclaimed. I got a spot, and someone shortly filled the rest. Wilco was decent. I’m sure I would have enjoyed this show more on a smaller stage. I’ve yet to hear their new album, but I’ve only heard good things about it.

Next I went to the White Stripes back at Which Stage (ya, its pretty much back and forth all afternoon). By this time pretty much everything was shaded, which was good, because the crowd was as big as ever. They came out, played for an hour or so, and left the stage. It turns out that they were taking a really awkward setbreak, and decided not to tell anyone. Some people left during this, thinking they were done. I was pretty disappointed with their show, and I say that as a fan of their music. I like their albums, and I like what I’ve heard of their live stuff before, but this show wasn’t that great. Plus, it clashed with the feel of the rest of the day.

When the Stripes ended their set, I went back to the mainstage (for the last time) to see Widespread Panic, who had already started. Widespread was really good, and even though they were on the mainstage, I just laid back and closed my eyes. Didn’t bother trying to see them, because I already knew I really couldn’t. Widespread was a really good show, and I wish I could have stayed for all of it. But the dust was at its worst, and I had to leave before started coughing up blood. I’d love to see Widespread again if I get the chance.

When I got back to my site everyone was gone. Not only folks from our site, but from campsites next to ours. They had all packed up and left. My tent was on the corner of the crossroads, and it looked very alone. Since it was early (2300 or so) I just sat at in the entrance of my tent for a while and people watched. While I was sitting there a few people walked by commenting on how empty this place was starting to feel. I popped my head out, “Man, you’re tellin me…” The guy who said it laughed, and then told me that they had figured my tent was abandoned by someone who didn’t feel like bringing it home. After they left, I took what they said to heart and brought all my crap inside my tent so no one would walk off with it thinking it was just left behind. I got to sleep that night earlier than I had in a long time.

The Morning After

All Bonnaroo Saga posts: tag/Bonnaroo 07

Recreational Chemistry by moe. w/Warren Haynes
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/moe1999-08-04.eac.flac16/moe1999-08-04d1t06_64kb.mp3]

Sunday morning I woke up around 8. I somehow managed to ignore the blistering heat of my tent for an hour longer than I had on previous days. So when I got up and out of my tent people were already awake. Melissa was up, but I think she went back to her tent shortly after to go back to sleep. Charles was hanging out of the tent halfway, so he could get equal parts cool temperature and privacy while he slept.

One thing that surprised me was the amount of people packing up that early in the morning. They knew there was music that night, right? Silly people, going back to their lives. I guarantee you that Monday morning was the hardest morning they had all year.

I was sitting around the table eating my breakfast with the two others who were up when we hear “Doses! Doses for breakfast!” A guy was heading towards the center of the crossroads selling his wares. At that time, he only had acid and shrooms. None of the folks at our site bought anything, but he decided that he liked us, or at least liked out shade, and stayed for a while.

This guy’s name was Hopper. He said he’d been up since Friday on acid (and I assume various other drugs…you’d need more than that to go for three days straight). “Doses! Doses and mushrooms! Doses for breakfast!” He had a shitload of acid for sale, all kept in these little Trojan condom boxes (they had a booth handing out single-serving samples). The mushrooms went fast, but he replenished his supply as other people passed by with stuff for sale. But he never ran out of acid. When we commented on this he told us “Enough to kill a baby.” We laugh, but he quickly tells us, “No, really. I’m trying to finance an abortion.” Apparently he got his 17 year old fuck-buddy (not girlfriend, he made the distinction) pregnant, and her mom would freak if she knew. Hopper is absolutely ridiculous.

As attractive girls walked by, he’d call out “If I follow you home will you keep me?” or “Hey! Would you like a snuggle-buddy?” The latter got a maybe. When a mounted policeman came through the crossroads, Hopper stopped selling so overtly, but he called out “Hey! I really like your horse!” and “I wish I was into bestiality!” going over to pet it. I should mention that as he left to go pet the horse or sell some drugs, he left about $400 worth of acid on our table. Eventually, the other guys at our site caved in and bought some from him (it was $5 a hit; half the price of most dealers). A few minutes later one came over and asked Hopper,
“Do they work if you swallow it?”
“No, that you’re supposed to keep it under your tongue.”
“I know, but I accidently swallowed it, will it still work?”
“Not really.”
“Alright, gimme another.”
I never found out if they were bunk or not. I left these folks before it kicked in, but Hopper might be the funniest dude I met all fest.

Late Night

All Bonnaroo Saga posts: tag/Bonnaroo 07

From The Flaming Lips I went over to see Gov’t Mule wrapping up their set. I caught the last couple songs, but I could no longer stand. I sat down on the ground right there. I guy in a giant pumpkin head passed by me, dancing to Mule. I couldn’t even stand when the crowd cheered for an encore, but I did stand once I heard them start to play. They were playing War Pigs, the second time I’d heard it that night. Maybe they heard the Lip’s “soundcheck” which is pretty possible, since no one else was playing at that time. Or maybe the subject matter of that song perfectly reflects what so many people, including the artists, are thinking right now. Mule delivered an incredible version that I would prefer to the original. They might have played another song after that, but I don’t know. I sat down after War Pigs and just listened to Mule jam.

An unknown amount of time later they wrapped up. I got up and started to head towards the exit of Centeroo, but on the way I passed The Other Tent (close to the entrance/exit and consistently had good bands). Sasha and Digweed were well into their set. I’d never heard them before, but they have really high energy dance music. Behind them on stage was a rainbow of flashing neon lights. I hadn’t expected to come upon a rave at 4am, but here it was. I stayed for a short short while, but left as exhaustion kicked in. The people in The Other Tent were dancing their asses off, and I just couldn’t do it. I would have loved to, but that day had killed me. I was already going on 16 hours on my feet and dancing, and I just couldn’t do any more. I heard the next day that they went well into the morning, finishing at 8am. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I’ll believe it. Next time I go to Bonnaroo, I’m bringing more Dew.

I floated back to my tent. My body was only sort of working, and my brain definitely wasn’t. What I remember is that as I left, there were still people coming in. Hardcore. Everyone at my campsite had long since passed out, and having nothing to distract me, I crashed hard. It was probably around 4:30.