Bonnaroo 2006 - Friday, We Arrive Just In Time

Okay, so we get up Friday morning, pick up our pop-up camper, and we drive out. Pretty morning, pretty drive, not bad. Things are looking up.

Come to find out we're literally in the last four or five groups to get into Bonnaroo. No kidding. We arrive Friday around noon, but evidently everyone else got there on Thursday night right around or after dark. This really worked out for us though, and we just drive right in. There were no lines. And since we got there late, we were in the very, very last camping spot, "Camp Mini-Me," way the hell away from Centeroo, the main concert area.

This might sound bad, but let me tell you, this was a real lucky break. We had to walk a bit farther than everyone else, yes, around a mile, but we were out there almost by ourselves. We had peace and quiet, good considerate neighbors, and our bathrooms weren't overused. Yeah, we had to walk a little ways to the bathroom, never a good thing at 4am (ask my brother), but really not a problem.

Things were looking up. This was a good campsite, our rented pop-up camper, a very cool one indeed, set up like a champ with no problems. (And with the Karnowski boys setting shit up, that's a freakin' miracle!) But I'm still a little miffed because where are we? We're in the "parking and camping" lots. Not the RV lot. After all that fuss and worry, and the lack of any help from the Bonnaroo folks on solving our RV issue, we end up in a lot where they don't care if you mix and match tents, campers, and RVs. Whatever.

Anyway, pretty weather, good camping spot, good camper. Things were really looking better.

Then we walked towards Centeroo. Good Lord I've never seen so many people so close together. And they were already so dirty! They'd only been there one night! The place was covered with dust, dirt, and caked-on grime. People were hawking unofficial wares of all sorts, but primarily from mobile head shops in vans and RVs.

Like I said before, I'm evidently pretty square. I just didn't realize how square till I walked through the unofficial vendor areas lining the "streets" of the tent city towards Centeroo.

In this situation, my friends, "square" means two things -- 1) I wasn't there to get high, and 2) I was actually there to listen to music. Neither of these things seemed to be the norm at Bonnaroo. People were there to get fucked up and to fuck and they weren't there to listen to music. I was a stranger in a strange land.

We finally make it into Centeroo, after seeing several people get their weed taken away from them at the Centeroo security gates. Now, I'm a square, I don't get high, but I'm not so square that I don't want other people to get high. Whatever. I'll take a happy stoner at a festival over an angry puking drunk any damn day of the week without thinking twice. But on Friday the Centeroo security dudes weren't happy. I think they smoked all the stuff they confiscated on Friday that night, though, as they were much, much less strict on Saturday.

Anyway, we make it through in time to grab a Bonnaroo t-shirt and catch a little of Nickel Creek in the "That Tent." I am overwhelmed by the number of people there. Yes, it's "only" 80,000 people, but when everyone is drinking heavily, stumbling unexpectedly, and chatting incessantly on cell phones to people who are probably 100 yards away while you're trying to listen to Chris Thile and Sara Watkins, it's a damn lot of people.

I didn't get to catch much of the Creek, but they were really lighting up the crowd. The people there who actually wanted to listen to music seemed to really like Nickel Creek. Good. I was glad to see it.

At this point we're wondering where the hell are the schedules and maps that we should've got at the main gate? We wander around and find a couple of information booths, but they all say the same thing, "Nope, I wish I had more schedules to give away." Centeroo is a big bunch of circles, and it's fairly hard to navigate without a map. Finally we found an information desk where one guy was holding a stack of schedules like they were gold bricks. We had to cajole the guy into giving us some. He looked like he was really thinking about it. You work there, dude! Give us some freaking schedules!

Anyway, at this point I'm getting pretty fed up with Bonnaroo. Not very impressed at all.

My mood lightens up with some music, though. We catch Bright Eyes, who was pretty good, and he had a few surprise guests with him including the completely unexpected Gillian Welch and David Rawlings! I jumped up like I was struck by lightning! We were at the "Which Stage," the second main stage, but we were so far back I couldn't even see them. I could see Gillian was wearing jeans and a hat, but that was it. Not a bad set.

After that I caught a few random acts including Ricky Skaggs who surprisingly enough rocked the crowd, and Death Cab for Cutie who pulled a much larger crowd but rocked them just as much and slow-songed them more. Not bad. I'm starting to like these crowds. These were the Bluegrass/Hippie folks at the Ricky Skaggs gig in the "This Tent" -- my crowd. And the Death Cab crowd at the Which Stage were my other people -- Indie Rock lovin' Yuppies and Yuppie Pupae. (Hmmm... better explain that one. "Yuppie Larvae" would be elementary and high schoolers, but kids in college, who know they'll be yuppies, but aren't yuppies yet, are "yuppie pupae." Nevermind. I'm moving on...) I was starting to feel considerably less square.

After a few gigs and some vendor strolling, which included some really cool gig poster art tents, including my favorite Yee-Haw Industries, we head over to the main stage -- the What Stage, to catch one of my favorite artists of all time -- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Little did we know that we were about to be really heartbroken. (Oh man, that "pupae" comment is really starting the bad puns isn't it? "Heartbroken?" Geez, I'm going to have to tread carefully from here on out.)

The sound was horrible. Horrible. And you've never seen this many people sitting in one lawn area before. I don't care who you are and where you've been. You've never seen this many people.

Bonnaroo isn't Merlefest, Larry. You can't just hop from act to act and then land safely in your reserved seats. You can't get in early and drop down some blankets and chairs to mark your spot in the main stage either. If you leave your stuff and it's where you left it when you get back, well then do a couple more miracles and the Pope'll be giving you a call to discuss grabbing some lunch and that upcoming Sainthood. Seriously, people will fuck with your stuff. Or more likely, they'll fuck off with your stuff. This isn't a Bluegrass festival.

So we were stuck way in the back, where we could neither see nor hear anything. I cannot with any honesty tell you that I saw Tom Petty that night. I hear that at one point the unbilled Stevie Nicks came out on stage to sing with him. Gee, I would've like to have seen that, especially given how fucking much I paid for my tickets. But no, I get to hear ten drunk underage girls behind me sing the words wrong to Free Falling. Oh yeah, and they're singing those wrong words during Running Down A Dream. Well, at least you got the album right, darlings.

Anyway, I can't handle it anymore, so we bail. I'm livid, but my anger won't keep me up through the multiple hours of waiting for Tom's show to end. During the main acts on the main stage, all of the other stages pretty much shut down. I really wanted to see My Morning Jacket on the That Stage at Midnight, but I couldn't stay up. My stress and anger from all day finally took its toll, and I was falling asleep. We decided to hike back.

I went to bed that night pretty damn pissed off and unimpressed with Bonnaroo. I was ready to swear it off entirely. Luckily, though, the next day was about to make a much-needed turn for the better.