Friday, June 14, 2013

Laser Light

          We learned a hard lesson this morning. There was a chill in the air during the night, and Brian and I crawled into our sleeping bags. Upon waking, we found ourselves unbearably hot and slick with sweat -- the sun had turned our zipped tent into a little furnace. The moment I opened my eyes, I clawed my way out of that back like a dying man. It was at least eighty-five degrees out, but the air coming in when I opened the screen felt like air conditioning. It was clearly time to take advantage of our free showers (it's $5 a shower for the unfortunate souls), but first I met with Harrison for a few minutes, and we caught up a bit, walked over and said hello to Jack and their other friends. We agreed to meet up for something and went our separate ways. I then woke Brian and we hit the showers. The water was unbelievably cold, impossibly sulfurous, and neither of us had shower shoes. It was not an outstanding experience, but at least it was free.
          We had a while to walk around with nothing pressing to attend, and swung by one of the tents to check out a band called Calexico. We sat some distance from the tent itself and settled under a tree -- the music is appreciably loud at each venue, and you don't need to be close to listen. Calexico is an indie rock outfit that rocks a blend of Tex-Mex/country/big brassy trumpet sounds, and it was good accompaniment while we sketched out a creature feature and sipped iced tea. Afterward, I picked up a tasty pesto and chicken quesadilla that was ordered, prepared and served in less than three minutes. Our second show for the day was Of Monsters and Men at Which Stage, and we stuck around for most of the set with a decent spot forward and to the right. The crowd was lively and the music charming, though there were some douches behind us who wouldn't stop talking trash about Mumford and Sons for some reason. (One guy shouted a joke about the singer's brain clot, which even his friends acknowledged as over the line.) We attempted to see Passion Pit at What Stage next, but the area was so mobbed that we were unable to get anywhere close. To Katherine: I apologize for not obtaining the desired photo.
          We also chose not to rush over to Grizzly Bear, though part of me did want to boost my hipster cred. Instead, we had a relaxed and fun time wandering around Centeroo signing petitions, getting some free swag, slacklining (!), and even taking a twenty-minute intro to meditation, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The word "Bonnaroo" is more meaningless by the moment, and everyone feels the need to chant it or scream it loudly and often. All of the musicians refer to their crowds as Bonnaroo, as in, "Bonnaroo! Make some noise!" How can I identify with something I don't even know the significance of? [Note from the future: It's derived from the French and roughly means "a really good time."] After some time, we checked in at the volunteer station at Centeroo and stayed there for a few hours. This was a more entertaining shift than the last, and we made friends with two girls named Jordan and Steph, as well as a crazy old woman from Virginia with an incomprehensible accent and terrifying eye condition. After the lady left, the four of us drew a creature feature and chatted about all manner of mischief.
          We were actually assigned to do something this time, and Brian and I ended up working Access at The Other Tent. Right in the center of the crowd (if somewhat toward the back), there's a raised, fenced platform reserved for people with disabilities. Our job was to facilitate their safe seating and comfortable experience, as well as keeping an eye out for medical problems in the crowd. However, the show we were put on Access for was Wolfgang Gartner, a strictly electronic/dance artist. Predictably, like two handicapped people showed up, and once they were seated, they were quite content the entire time. Basically, we got to watch the show from a vantage point above everyone else, toss glowsticks out into the crowd when they ended up on stage, dance around, and enjoy ourselves. Wolfgang Gartner rocked a killer set, the light show was brilliant, the crowd was on fire, and I had a complete blast. Crowd highlight: guy, obviously tripping balls, spraying people with a mister with a joyful look on his face as if he were the Rainmaker. He couldn't get my attention from where he was standing, so he hammered on the rail I was leaning on so I could share in the misty refreshment. What a team player.
          After our shift, Brian and I made our way to another tent. We caught three or four songs at the end of ZZ Top's set while jockeying for a good view of Animal Collective, up next. ZZ Top were rock stars as always, and the whole crowd seemed pumped for the next band. The Cool Dudes (they really were cool dudes) behind us were tripping on acid, the people in front of us were passing around some white powder that I assume was MDMA, and the air was rank with the weeds. Animal Collective was something else, and their beatboxer/backup singer is totally nuts. Up until this point, I hadn't used any illicit substances at Bonnaroo. One of the Cool Dudes tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a joint, which I puffed on almost reflexively before passing it along. It was only later that I learned that Cool Dude had referred to said marihuana cigarette as "the One-Hit Wonder," and it was true to its name. The next couple of songs were decent, and the one after that was amazing; one song more, and I was having the time of my life. I paid back the Cool Dudes after the crowd shifted, they were partially separated, and I moved to a slightly less desirable spot so they could stand together. A short while later, the combination of flashing lights, trippy vocals, and blaring volume made me feel somewhat overwhelmed, so I suggested we leave. Crowd hall of shame: two girls who violently pushed their way up into the crowd and got in front of us, only to have a ten minute conversation during the show. We enjoyed a calm walk back to camp -- it was 3 a.m. at this point -- and reflected on the day. The site was probably a mile to a mile and a half away, and we could still hear distinctly hear Animal Collective's bass booms from inside the tent. Our third and final volunteer shift would be tomorrow at 9 a.m., and by the time we got to sleep it was around 4:30. Here's to sleep deprivation.
          Quotes of the day:
"I feel like I'm slathering myself with fucking eggs!" - someone in the shower
"Mumford's all right. His sons are terrible though." - a doucher
"This is called the One-Hit Wonder." - Cool Dude  (courtesy of Brian)
"You know, science kinda ruins everything, dude." - Brian, abruptly
"You could be a godswood." - Brian
On Avatar: The Last Airbender...
Me: "How about we watch the movie instead?"
Brian: "There isn't a- oh, no. Fuck that."

Wolfgang Gartner, man on fire.

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