Tag: Bonnaroo 07

Bonnaroo, an Introduction

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Parts 1-5 were written while I was on the road, on paper. I’m pretty happy I was able to do that. Not only because I was able to write things down while they were still fresh, but just writing on paper was a refreshing experience. I wrote in pen, so unless something was really not what I had wanted to write down, I left it and built off it. I like being able to write like that, because when I type, I constantly edit myself as I type, and sentences rarely turn out the way I intended them to.

Most of these entries, like most things on this blog, are meant for me. I’m happy if you can take something away from it, but I am normally the audience I have in mind when I write these things. Because of this some things have been left out, and will probably be forgotten in time. Whether intentional or not, what has been written down is likely all I’ll remember. I’ll try to add more things as I recall them.

Bonnaroo was a very fun experience, but I doubt I will go back. If I got a chance to go back, for very cheap or free, I probably would. The festival is too big, with a crowd too diverse for my liking. I don’t regret going, but once is probably enough for me.

Odds and Ends

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This is where I’m going to throw little things that wouldn’t fit in any other space.

I saw the lowest gas price all trip in Virginia: $2.73/gallon. A good $0.50 less than up here.

The whole trip cost me $402:
– $220 Bonnaroo Ticket
– $120 Greyhound Ticket
– $20 Food/Toiletries
– $15 Iced Lemonades
– $10 T-Shirt
– $8 Pizza
– $6 Waffle House
– $3 Bonnaroo Sticker
Pretty sure those are all my expenses.

On the way down, I saw a huge sign on an apartment complex that read: “If you lived here, you’d be home now.”

At some point (I think it was on the way down, leaving Baltimore) I wrote a poem. It popped into my head, and stayed there, so I wrote it down:

In the back of the bus there is no rain
I can see that it is wet outside,
I can see the lightning,
I can see the windshield wipers going,
But I wouldn’t know it was raining outside
Unless you told me.

I like it because of all the social and various deeper meanings that can be taken from it, but I like it most because I wrote it about none of those things.

I took two disposable camera’s worth of photos. I’ll upload them to Flickr once I get them developed.

If you plan on traveling Greyhound, and you’re going to an event, give yourself some wiggle room by leaving earlier than you need to. You’ll need it.

I’d recommend not traveling Peter Pan if at all possible. The first bus I got on was a Peter Pan bus, and we were 10 minutes late, which made me over a day late. On the way back, the last bus I was on was also a Peter Pan bus (driven by Bus Nazi) and that bus was over 15 minutes late. I’m only happy I had no connecting bus to catch.

That is one thing I can say for Greyhound buses. None that I was on were ever late. If anything, they were early.

The people at Greyhound are nice, but they generally can’t do much to help you (except Gary).

When traveling by bus, you get what you pay for.

Bonnaroo: the End

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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

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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

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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

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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.

The Flaming Lips

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If you’ve never seen the Flaming Lips live before, watch the above video to get an idea.After twenty minutes or so of The Police, I left to grab a decent spot for the Flaming Lips. I wasn’t the only one with this idea, and there were a couple thousand people in front of the stage when I arrived. It sounded like The Police ended sooner than they were supposed to, and there was a while where there was no music coming from anywhere. Since all the other stages shut down when a headliner is on the mainstage, there wasn’t anyone opposite The Police. And the stages weren’t supposed to start up until midnight. The band was ready long before then, and came out on stage to screw around and make sure everything was in place. When Wayne Coyne came out on stage and looked at the huge crowd already assembled he asked “Did anyone even see the Police?”

Soon they got tired of waiting around for the arbitrary midnight start time. Wayne told the crowd “Alright, so we’re not supposed to start until midnight, so if anyone asks, this is just a soundcheck.” They launched into War Pigs, complete with visuals on the big screen (a semi-circular projection screen) behind them. Full of energy, the crowd was getting into it, and then they finished. I guess they got in trouble, because Wayne came back out and said they’d have to wait until midnight to go on. Some time goes by, and stage hands (I guess) start throwing out little laser pointer keychains from the stage. Soon they were getting thrown from the soundboard as well, but I wasn’t quite close enough to get any. All in all, thousands of these keychains were passed out, and people lit up Which stage with them. The very top, mostly blank space and the name of the stage in huge letters, was swarming with little red dots. Wayne came out on stage, and told everyone that these little ‘cat toys’ were harmless, and they were planning a big stunt with them about 45 minutes into the show, but the batteries don’t last too long, so save the batteries!

More nothing. As we’re waiting, we can see the band just dicking around on stage waiting for midnight to roll around. The stage is still covered in little red dots. But then the smoke machine starts up, and some music starts playing. The massive circular lighting rig above the stage comes to life, shining lights everywhere, strobes and the whole lot. It took me a second to notice, and another second to be sure, but the lighting rig was descending. The entire lighting rig was getting closer and closer to the stage, until suddenly the top was revealed. It was a gigantic space ship! It stopped about ten feet from the stage, and a ladder was brought underneath the ship. The members of the band (except Wayne) descend to massive applause. Then the ship starts to pitch forward, revealing more of the top to us. And sitting on the very top of the space ship is Wayne Coyne in a giant plastic bubble. Think of it as a life-size hamster ball. People around me wonder aloud if he is going to roll down into the crowd (he’s known for crowd-surfing in the bubble) and I admit I was wondering that myself. But he isn’t that crazy, he steps down the side of the ship, still in the bubble, onto the waiting hands of his bandmates and stagehands. They help him onto the crowd and he rolls around on top of his fans for a few minutes as the space ship pitches in the other direction to reveal the bottom. On the bottom are more lights, mirrors, and other things that make a space ship work.

He gets back to the stage right as they start their first song, and the confetti starts to fly. The Flaming Lips like confetti, and I do too. There are two cannons on either side of the stage whose sole purpose is to shoot confetti a hundred feet in the air over the crowd. I’m not even counting the handheld cannons Wayne fired when he felt like it (generally when he wasn’t singing or playing). There was much confetti, which was an awesome sight from afar, but I imagine must be insane up close. Next time I see them, I’m going to have to try to be really close.

After a few songs, the ship starts to right itself, and ascend back up to the top of the stage. We can see the projection screen again, and they make full use of it, including projecting the image from a small camera mounted on Wayne’s microphone. More lights, color, confetti and music. Then came the laser stunt. The screen behind them told us it was time, and counted down from 10 to SHOOT WAYNE at which point everyone in the audience with a pointer aimed it at the lead singer. He was ready for them, with a massive mirror he held up, reflecting the beams in every direction. This would have been boring as hell had it not been for the smoke machine showing the path of every single beam. You can interpret that metaphorically however you would like, but I’m going to stick with the visual. It was an incredible effect, and I wouldn’t like any deeper meaning to cheapen the memory of that. As it was with most of the stunts they did that night, the crowd was stunned silent. Maybe that isn’t true. Maybe I was so mesmerized that I didn’t hear them. I was awestruck, and I can only think that everyone else was as well, because I don’t remember hearing them.

Near the end of the show, they did the leaf-blower-balloon thing shown in the video above. One hitch: the balloon popped too early, and the band wasn’t ready to cut the music, so the held the crescendo while Wayne got another balloon to attach to the leaf-blower and inflate again. This was taken pretty lightly by everyone, including Wayne who I noticed pointing an accusing finger at the band (for not cutting on time) with a smile on his face. And it is a pretty cool trick, we just got to see it twice. :)

They inflated a giant white balloon and sent it out into the crowd, who shined their lasers onto it as it bounced above the fans. There were probably fifty other balloons that had been bouncing around all show, but this one had lasers on it, which made it special. Wayne even commented “Man that’s cool.”

Soon after they left the stage, but not after shooting off all the confetti they had left. They unloaded all the handheld cannons and the two massive cannons must have fired for a solid minute. They left the stage, and the crowd exploded. And then a new thought entered my mind: what about the encore? The crowd was obviously not going to be happy unless the band came back on, but how could they possibly top that? That was the best live show I had ever seen, and the crowd wanted more. I imagined them backstage trying to scrap together different props in order to make a decent encore stunt. But they were more prepared than I was for an encore, because as they came back on stage and started to play, the ship started to descend. And one by one they climbed up the latter into the ship, Wayne waving goodbye to the crowd as he ascended last. And then, with as many lights as before, the ship went back up.

Once the ship was up, the house music came on. And what was the choice to follow such a show? Louis Armstrong’s What A Wonderful World. Everyone who knew the lyrics (and let’s face it: who doesn’t?) sang along. That was a perfect choice after seeing a show like that.

The show was over, but damn. What a show. I haven’t ever seen a live show so enthralling or enchanting in my whole life. There was much more than what I’ve written, but words are so dry I couldn’t even begin to describe it and give it the justice it deserves. If a DVD of this show ever became available, I’d buy it. If the Bonnaroo 2007 DVD includes clips of this show, I’ll buy it. Nothing short of being there can ever convey that feeling. I can’t wait until my pictures are developed; I must have spent half a roll on that show alone.

Saturday

All Bonnaroo Saga posts: tag/Bonnaroo 07

State of Mind and Let Me Be by Xavier Rudd
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/xr2004-10-28.shnf/xr2004-10-28d1t06_64kb.mp3,http://www.archive.org/download/xr2004-10-28.shnf/xr2004-10-28d1t09_64kb.mp3]

New York Port Authority Bus Terminal

I missed String Cheese. I know, I know. It was the show I intended to see at ‘roo. But not sleeping for the last two days got to me, and sometime into Tool, I passed out. Its a shame, but I’ll get to hear the show online, and should be able to catch them live some other time this summer. No worries. That sleep was some of the best sleep I’ve ever had. Apparently I didn’t even wake up when Charles started screaming my name and shining a light on my tent (they were well into their acid trip). I’m sad that I missed their game that night. After I didn’t respond, they decided I wasn’t there and turned on people walking through the crossroad. What Charles said he did was shine a light in someone’s face as they walked by, and if that didn’t freak them out enough, he’d yell. Sure, its a jerky thing to do, but it would have been funny to watch. The next morning I woke up to someone outside yelling “Beer! Beer for breakfast!” They were selling beers to anyone that was up at that hour (around 7, which is the point where the tent got unbearably hot, and you were forced awake). They kept at it for a while, varying it as time wore on. “Pay us and we’ll drink a beer!” They went on for a while until some security folks on horseback told them to take off.

So lets get on with Saturday. Oh wait, first I wanted to take back a couple things. But I suppose that goes along with Saturday. Lets start Saturday again. Friday afternoon, when our neighbors first invited us over, they were very drunk. And by Friday night they were burnt out. That is what gave me such a negative first impression. Saturday morning I got to talk to them again, and they’re alright guys.

Moving on, at some point in the morning we lost Charles. Not at all sure where he went. So Melissa and I headed to Shakedown Street, where all the vendors are. Melissa was on a mission to find some pot (“Do you have anything to put in these?” gesturing towards the pipes for sale) and I was looking for the obscure cool item that is always hiding in the rows of vendors. Shakedown has a LOT of glass pipes. Really, an unreasonable amount. And the rest of the stuff they had was standard fare, so I didn’t get anything. Melissa eventually found some pot (harder than you’d think, no one wanted to share), even though it was at an outrageous price.

Around noon I bailed on Melissa to go see Railroad Earth. Railroad Earth is a really high energy progressive bluegrass band. They’ve played Grey Fox before, so I knew they were good. This is where the trouble began: I started dancing, and I didn’t really stop until 4am. Railroad Earth had an incredible set, and then I moved over to see the Slip. I’ve heard them before as well: a guitar/bass/drum trio, and they’re good, so I wanted to see them live. More incredible energy, more dancing. From there I headed over to a small stage to see Railroad Earth again, for a much shorter but equally awesome set. Right after that, at the same stage, was solo acoustic Warren Haynes. I stuck around for that, which was a bit of a letdown, because he was a little late and a little drunk. He only got to play two songs (the rest was an interview) but they were both very good. From there I went to go see the Hold Steady. This was mostly at the recommendation of friends, and because some of their stuff that I’ve heard is pretty good. Their live show, however, really wasn’t. They were at the dusty stage (not their fault, but an immediate disincentive), and from the moment they got on, they were more into it than the crowd. That is always a turn off, and after hearing four or five songs (some of which I had heard before, and realized they didn’t add all too much live) I left. I headed over to The Other Tent where Keller would be playing soon. But the artist before him hadn’t finished yet (because I left the Hold Steady early). I hadn’t heard of him, or heard any of his stuff, but Xavier Rudd was incredible. He is a one man band, but not the same way Keller is. Xavier has a platform on stage with three didgeridoos, some drums and bongos, and an electric guitar on his lap. He played them all live, no looping. He had a drummer sit in on a few songs which just added to the awesome. I’m going to find out more about him, and see him again if I can.

Next was Keller’s set. Since I was there really early, I was right up front. This was my first time seeing Keller with the WMD’s (a quartet he formed to tour with after his last album), and only my second time seeing him ever. I was pumped, and already in a good mood because of all the good tunes I’d heard so far. When the musicians came out for a soundcheck, it took them a while to get the monitors balanced, and they would gesture to the guy at the soundboard how they wanted him to change it. Most of the time, they would point up if they wanted it higher. After some 5 minutes of pointing, the crowd started to do it too, and soon everyone under the tent was had their index fingers extended. Its these little spontaneous moments that make me love live shows. The show started with a really jazzy tune that could have been completely improvised, I’m not sure. But it was very different from the Keller I was used to. He only brought out two guitarts, and didn’t loop at all. It still sounded good, just not like Keller (obviously, because he was playing with musicians besides himself). Then he launched into some old favourites, and I realized why he wanted a quartet. There was so much more energy during Freaker than there ever was with him alone. And it was during Freaker that things started to get airborne. People brought beach balls of all sizes, and someone brought a massive stuffed Scuba Doo (Scooby Doo in Scuba gear). All of these were bouncing over my (our) head. More dancing. Eventually, Scooby ripped, and showered stuffing on our heads. I don’t think I can do this show justice, so I’ll stop trying. Just know it was one of my favourite sets all weekend.

After Keller, I briefly tried to go see Flight of the Conchords w/Dimitri Martin, buut there was a line for the comedy tent, so I didn’t. In fact, because of that I didn’t see anything in the comedy tent all weekend. Stupid lines. There is so much to do, why would you ever wait in line? I headed back to camp to rinse the dust and what was left of Scooby off me, then grabbed some food for the road, and headed off to see the Police. This is the first time I’ve seen a performance of this size. 50,000+ people all at one stage. I don’t want to do it again. The performance loses its intimacy, and you can’t even see the performers except on the massive video screens. Might as well be watching a dvd. The Police were nothing special. It was rumored that Stewart Copeland was trying to get Sting and Andy Summers to jam, but if they did I didn’t notice. I left less than halfway into their set to get a good spot at the Flaming Lips.

Back in Tennessee

All Bonnaroo Saga posts: tag/Bonnaroo 07

Eat My Dust by String Cheese Incident
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/sci1996-08-11.sbd.flac16/sci1996-08-11d1t09_64kb.mp3]

Manchester, TN

So Charles, Melissa, and I made basecamp underneath a row of payphones. Melissa is pretty ditzy, but nice. She wore a long skirt and had hair that reached her waist. Charles has long blonde hair and a beard which is still shorter than his hair, for now. He said he grew the beard so people would stop mistaking him for a chick. I think that is only a half joke. While we were sitting under the payphones, one of them rings. Melissa answers it, and the chick on the other end asks for someone named Johnny. Melissa steps over to the main area of the terminal where most people are waiting for their buses to arrive, and calls out for Johnny, yelling that he has a phone call. Johnny is in his late twenties, he has short trimmed hair, and lots of peircings and tattoos. He notices our bags and general appearance and asks if we’re going to Bonnaroo. We find out he had just come from there, and had a pretty crappy experience. He had been lead to believe that someone would supply him with a ticket, but that never happened, and since he didn’t have thte moneyy to grab one from a scalper, he just walked away. What makes this such a crappy experience is that he was now in the middle of Tennessee for no reason. So he was now on his way home, waiting for a bus at 0600 the next morning. He was trying to coordinate something with his girlfriend (the girl calling the payphone). Johnny was an interesting guy, heavy into alternative life styles and body mods. Another interesting thing to note: he is friends with Lizardman. Besides that, he is part of a suspension team, gauged his earlobes, and split his tongue. He also raised and owns a couple Boa Constrictors. An interesting guy with lots of good stories, Johnny was a good addition to our group. So he hung out with us for a while until Charles and Melissa decided to his up a nearby pub with live irish music. Johnny joined them, but I stayed behind. I like Irish music well enough, but pubs less so, especially if I haven’t had much sleep. So my plan was to catch up on this journal, then catch a little snooze. Not long after they left, Johnny returned alone. He told me he tuned back after two blocks, favoring sleep. He went to go find an empty bench to sleep on, and I finished writing, still sitting under the phones. Once I was done I went to the bathroom to wash up and shave while I still had running water (shaving sucks when you’re camping). Charles came into the bathroom about a minute after I did, so I took my time knowing someone would be watching our bags. When I got out, the terminal was crowded, and it had been nearly empty when I went in. I couldn’t find my bags, or Charles and Melissa. Just then, Melissa bumped into me on her way to the bathroom, and let me know they have moved outside so they didn’t have to deal with all those people. I’m not sure what happened to Johnny, I think some people may have sat on him.

Outside, it was much quieter, and actually more comfortable. We had befriended the security guard inside when he learned that he came from the same area as C&M. We made friends with the next guard as well, when the first’s shift was over. Turns out the next guard also hailed from that area. What are the odds? They provided sporadic company as they made their rounds throughout the building. It seems their main duty is to keep people from smoking out front, as well as keeping panhandelers away. Those two things are more related than you may think. The reason they don’t want people smoking out front is because it gives a big target for panhandelers.

Another guy waiting for a bus joined us outside. He had just gotten out of jail, and was on parole. He had been to Bonnaroo in years past, and told us some tales of sneaking into the fest in the old days. In case you’re wondering, he got busted at a Particle concert and did 14 months. He was who I talked to most in the early morning hours. Charles had gone inside to crash and Melissa had fallen asleep on her luggage out front with us. This guy, I’ll call him Todd, was a big jamfan. It was refreshing to talk to someone who appreciated the music, because C&M weren’t big jamfans. We talked about the bands at Bonnaroo and other festivals and shows or experiences we’d had in the past. As the sun started to come up, he went inside to catch his bus. I figured I’d go inside when the street lights went out, which somehow managed to be about the same time Melissa got up. We went inside, found Charles, and found new places to sleep. Charles and I grabbed a spot on the floor between two benches, and I managed to get about an hour of sleep before some employee woke me up and told me to move. C&M moved to take over more than half of a bench, and I sat down on another one, using the cooler they brought as a legrest. In case you don’t know, bus station terminal benches are the most uncomfortable things ever. After an hour you lose feeling in various body parts, which makes any decent amount of sleep difficult. C&M pulled it off, however, sleeping until 10. I got an hour here and there, but spent most of my time staring at the wall and listening to CNN on the TV above me.

Around 0930, people started to arrive in the terminal (before that, it had just been us and the employees). A good number of them were headed to Bonnaroo. They weren’t as late as we were, however, and had planned on arriving on Friday. When Charles woke up, he found himself surrounded by Amish people. Its true: the amish travel by Greyhound. He reaction as he looked around him was priceless. We got on the bus at 11, and arrived in Manchester soon after (about noon?). We got a ride to the main entrance from a local guy trying to make a buck by serving as a shuttle. He told us that someone had already died, although he didn’t know how (probably drugs or dehydration). Once inside, we start to head to tent-only camping, but it is really hot and C&M didn’t have bags designed for ease of carry (a sleeping bag was tied on to their suitcase using ethernet cable). So at one of our breaks, a fella walks over and offers us a spot next to them on the corner of a crossroad. Its a good spot, and since we don’t really know where we were headed to, we accept. [NOTE: if you ever travel and have to rely on the kindness of strangers, it is very very helpful to have a female with you. Melissa is the sole reason we got this spot.] Unfortunately, these guys are part of the new fraty crowd at festivals, and as I write this I hear people commenting about the disarray of their site. Two even stopped to take pictures. But that’s ok. I can have jerks for neighbors since I won’t be spending much time at camp.

After setting up camp, C&M&I go to explore Centeroo. And after a brief setback (Melissa forgot she left her acid in her purse, so we had to go back to camp to leave it there) we were in Centeroo. I got to catch the last few songs of Tortise (who are very good). From there I saw Kings of Leon (also good), the Nightwatchman (good, but annoying), Dierks Bently (less good), and lastly the Black Keys (best). At Kings of Leon, the guy standing in front of me lost his balance and collapsed. He was on the ground and not moving when his buddy started to leave and get help. He didn’t get more than three steps away before his fallen comrade was back on his feet, albeit shakily. I’m not sure what happened, he’d been smoking pot, but that shouldn’t have had this effect on him. Maybe the sun? Either way his friends brought him out of the crowd. At the Nightwatchman show, Tom Morello amused me. He is a good guitarist, but all of his music is very political. At one point, when talking about the verses commonly removed from Woody Guthrie’s This Land is Your Land he said “God forbid you should come to a Nightwatchman show and think for yourself!” and everyone cheered. In the middle of his very next song he said “Now pump your fists!” right before he soloed. The crowd, of course, obliged. Way to think for yourselves, guys. This happened a few more times in a couple other forms before his set ended. I went to see Dierks Bently because it was said that Sam Bush would be joining him. After two songs, Sammy wasn’t on stage, and the music sucked, so I left. The Black Keys put on a hell of a show. The tiny tent they were in was packed, so I decided to sit outside and stay cool instead of standing in a crowd of warm bodies. While the show was great, my seat was not. I got covered in dust from foot traffic (unavoidable). I’ve been steadily coughing it up since then. But the Black Keys: thumbs up. I skipped Tool because I could hear them from my tent. I’m about to head out to see The String Cheese Incident, who are on their last tour with Bill Nershi. Can’t miss that. I’ll write more later.

This is a long entry

All Bonnaroo Saga posts: tag/Bonnaroo 07

Tennessee Jed by the Grateful Dead
[audio:http://www.archive.org/download/gd89-08-19.schoeps.13254.sbeok.shnf/gd89-08-19d1t05_64kb.mp3]

So the bus did come at 0530, but that story is less interesting, and I’ll leave it alone for a little while. Shortly after I sat down at the gate for the 0530 bus, a fella wondered over to me and struck up a conversation. His name was Neftali, and he had worse luck than anyone I had met so far. As best I could tell he was traveling from New Jersey to New Orleans. Somewhere along the way he lost his wallet, which included some $400 and his ID. He tole me how he hadn’t eaten in three days, except what he had stolen from the lil store in stations. He asked to use my phone, and I let him. He called his girlfriend (who lives in NJ) and most of his story unfolded before me from the one side of the conversation I heard. He had been on his way to meet his girl when he lost his wallet, and turned around and headed home (I think). She sounded either uninterested in him or crazy. I think it was a little of both. She kept hanging up on him or not responding for long stretches of time. Eventually he learned what she wanted him to do was get a job there, earn some money, and head back her way. That really wasn’t a great option, and he didn’t take well to it. He kept trying to find some harsh words to hurt her, but that didn’t really work. Neftali is a soft-spoken guy, and when he told her she had shit for brains, it was more like he was trying to explain that to her than insult her. Eventually he started quoting this long winded insult from Con Air (with all the relevant context as well), annd that was about when I stopped paying attention. His bus was coming at 0200, and I was counting down the time until he’d leave. He was a nice enough guy, and he was in a really shitty situation, but I couldn’t put up with him at that early hour. He couldn’t get any food because he didn’t have any money. He couldn’t get any money because Western Union requires IDs to claim money. All he could do was head home and hope. So around 2 he left, but not without leaving me his number first. I’ll call him tomorrow. I never did.

After he left, a few more people introduced themselves to me. Black Guy, Redneck, and Amazed Man. Amazed Man played the smallest role, so I’ll describe him first. He started to talk to me shortly after Neftali left. Amazed Man was waiting for his friend to arrive, but his friend hadn’t showed up yet. But as we talked, he couldn’t believe the details of my story, or that of Neftali’s. He kept saying “Oh my GOSH!” and couldn’t believe such troubles could befall us. He also couldn’t understand how Greyhound was still in business. After talking to me and Black Guy for a little while, he went to go check on his friend’s bus. Turns out it was running four hours late, and he decided to go home instead of wait. That is where his role in the story ends.

Redneck showed up in the terminal around 0100, but he was in and out of the terminal all night. While he was around I learned that he had gone to see his son off to Iraq (his son was a Marine). And was now on his way home to Alabama. Redneck plays a larger role later on, and that’s all you need to know for now.

Black Guy is the MVP of this station. He had been there as long as I had, waiting for the 0530 with his daughter (who was a little younger than I). Once Neftali left, he came over to make conversation, and proved to be the most amiable person I had met yet. He was in his fifties (like most people I meet, apparently). He was also heading home, to Memphis. We became fast friends trading Greyhound horror stories, and he told me about the good old days when they let him smoke and drink on the bus. He was much needed company.

Fast forward to about 0400, and a considerable line has built up for the 0530 bus, with Black Guy, Redneck, and myself at the front. Redneck and Black Guy were damned determined to get on the bus, and while my sentiments were the same, I wasn’t as willing to throw my weight around as they were. So I stuck right behind Redneck, sure he would clear the way. The problem was they we still had about an hour and a half until the bus got there, and already people were crowding the entrance of the gate. A bus pulled up on the other side of the door, and I leaned over to check it out. That was about when I set off the fire alarm. This confused the hell out of me, because not only did you have to pull down a lever to set it off, but you had to life a plastic shield to get to it. I had done neither of those things, but that didn’t make the alarm any quieter. Turns out that all I needed to do was lean on it to set it off. And it turns out that all that was needed to do to turn it off was smack that plastic shield really hard. Funny thing is, it took them about ten minutes to get around to doing that. Maybe its a semi-regular occurrence. As 0530 approaches, Redneck is promising violence and all sorts of maladies to the folks who snuck up to the front. I was sitting right behind him, waiting to pounce once the door opened. All of that ended up being unnecessary, because there was plenty of room on the bus, but inside, the tension was palpable. I sat down in a seat by the window, and waiting for everyone else to get on.

Paul sat down next to me. He never told me his name, but he looked like a Paul, so I’ll call him Paul. Paul was heading back home to Texas, specifically to a town I’d never heard of before and don’t remember now. He had been waiting as long as Redneck, Black Guy and myself, but he didn’t get in line until an hour before boarding. As a result he was 49th of the 55 boarding. Paul was a nice guy, didn’t speak much unless he had something to say. His manner reminded me of Bill, but I’ll continue to call him Paul so you can tell them apart. Paul and I rode together until Knoxville: 10 hours in all.

In Knoxville, I was supposed to meet a connecting bus that would take me to Manchester (my final destination). I went up to the counter and found that the bus to Manchester was at Gate 3, and was leaving in 10 minutes. Everything was looking fine. Now, if you’ve learned anything from this story so far, I hope it is that things are never as fine as they seem (at least not when Greyhound is concerned). I started to talk to the guy behind me in line, a dude with a lot of tattoos and piercing wearing a bowler hat. He told me that he was on his way to meet with a company that had just hired him to be a trucker. Yesterday, he had taken the test for his CDL, and failed at backing. Shortly after that the company he was planning to work for told him they were no longer interested. And shortly after that he got a call from another, better company, who was interested in him. That very morning he had taken the CDL test again and passed. Then he got a call from the second company again, saying they’d like to hire him. So he was on his way to a new career, just hours after finding out. I told him that his story was too happy, and that I hadn’t heard anything but horror stories yet that trip. So something was clearly wrong. And sure enough, when we start boarding and I present my ticket, I’m told that I can’t go to Manchester. Apparently Greyhound hadn’t prepared for Bonnaroo. So I am pointed to Gate 1 which will bring me to Nashville. And what is behind Gate 1? They very bus I had just gotten off. So I sit down next to Paul, who is in the window seat now, and explain as best I can what happened. We continue another couple stops on the way to Nashville, and I realize as 2100 rolls around, I’m about 12 hours late. Thanks Greyhound.

We show up at Nashville and get off. I go up to ask the folks at the counter when the next bus to Manchester is leaving. 1100 the following morning. At this point it is about 2200, which means my bus is thirteen hours away. I ask how far we are, and we’re only 65 miles away. I ask her if she knows of any cab services in the area. She tells me I have cute eyes (about as good of a compliment I could get considering I hadn’t showered or seen a mirror in 36 hours. I later saw myself and I looked like hell) and that she’d go out to her car to make a call to a service that only charged a buck a mile. While I’m waiting at the counter two folks just a bit older than me walk up, and it is obvious they’re heading the same way I am. They guy’s name is Charles, and I haven’t caught his girlfriend’s name yet. We combine our forces to try and bring down the price of a cab ride per person, but all the services that woman had called were booked, and the cabs outside the terminal were charging $140-$180 to get to Manchester. We eventually got them down to $120 for the three of us, but that was still too much considering we had already missed the Thursday night acts. We wondered around some more and eventually resigned ourselves to wait for the 1100 bus in the morning.