Bonnaroo '06

The adventure of Bonnaroo started when my pal Mike asked me to go with him while on a road trip to see Ratdog. Now, at the time Mike was a fancy business man and I was still a penniless college senior. He offered to purchase my ticket, as I promised to pay him back (Mike I still haven't forgotten!!!) . Any who, months later I got my gorgeous ticket in the mail, and two weeks later a large navy blue van arrived in front of my home at 3:30 in the morning. Out of the van pops some of my most favorite people in the world! Mike, who had driven the whole way from Boston, Mass, Matt and Steve who managed to polish off all the beer for the weekend on the ride down, and Amanda, Steve's gal pal. After throwing my crap in the back, I sat shotgun and supported my pal Mike as he drove the rest of the way to Tennessee. Most people complain about the trip to Bonnaroo, that it takes forever to get inside, the location of camping sites and setup. For us, the perfect weekend started out just that way. We pulled right into the check point, where we waited five minutes, and was flagged to Camp Zoolander. Camp Zoo is located right behind the ferris wheel for those who are unfamiliar, prime camping spot. We quickly set up, by we I mean the boys, and then sat down and relaxed until the music started. It was hot, but no one minded, we were about to embark on four days of musical and recreational paradise. It was around this time that we met Turtle, a man who I would later learn a lot from. Turtle had a mecca of a camp site, with every amenity. Turtle was an eccentric character, we became fast friends. Later in the week he would wake me with wonderful breakfast selections like French Toast. Mike was pretty beat, so he took the first night easy, but Matt and I stopped at nothing to start having a good time right away. We scalped his extra ticket then decided to go snoop around the grounds to get acquainted. We stumbled onto Tortured Soul, we dug the sound and jumped in with two feet. The end of the night came and we went back to the camp site, I believe. The next morning it began all over again. We started with Gordo and Ramble Dove which I left early to go camp out for some Oysterhead love, this is the first time I got separated from my pals and certainly would not be the last. But I met some cool cats at Oysterhead. The dynamics between Trey and Lester were incredible, they literally controlled the tempo of the crowd, which was massive. They played on the "What Stage" which is the big guy.I remember looking back and seeing the crowd extend for about a mile behind me. I was probably 50 rows back from the stage, and I literally watched as at least 40, 000 people grooved the same together. I then met up with my pal Parker who took me to see Giant Panda Rat Something (whom I would later run into months later while on tour with Tea Leaf Green) and we partied to them while listening to predictable but lovable Tom Petty in the background. The next adventure was one that had been planned with my younger pals for months. We promised each other we would meet up at Disco Biscuits at Bonnaroo. We did, I ran into them around the 11th row during the Pink Floyd collaboration...at this point I stopped at nothing to get up front. By Astronaut I was jamming front row, with a new pal whose phone number I have listed as Bisco Roo Boy. We had fun, later Marc Brownstein gave me his guitar pick and murmured some words to me...no idea what though. After this show I was in for the long haul, I went to the disco and danced... Attempted to find my camp site and failed, two kind people picked me up and drove me around for awhile until we all gave up. I left them and started walking. Hours later, long after sunrise I found my home, my friends were waking up as i fell asleep and unfortunately, I missed Grace Potter on Saturday morning. I hankered about 3 hours of sleep, woke and ran to Elvis Costello just in time for his anti-Bush/anti-war segment of his set. It was awesome. While the crowds bustled about I snuck through to snag a spot for Beck. I managed to get third row for the Beck show and a chair to stand on! I was on top of the world...what a brilliant show that was, a wonderful sketch was shown with his marionettes that had the whole crowd laughing. Beck's show was high energy with special effects, water glass playing and even mascot costumes...and who could forget his hype man, he worked the hardest of them all! Then came Radiohead, which was historic considering how many American shows they play...I met a nice boy at the Lemonade stand, and three really annoying girls the one I am convinced stole a possession of mine...she had red hair. Radiohead was pretty transcendental...out there for sure, I stood further in the back to take in the light show, I was told that was one of the best parts of the show. They had two large screens that separated all the guys and morphed them in and out of each other, very brain-boggling. After Radiohead I got lost again. I called my friends, they tried to help me, but there was nothing they could do. I was confused, it was dark and I was alone. I camped out in front of what I thought would be Super Jam, it wasn't. Luckily, my friends are used to my relatedness and found me and took me to the right place. We partied at SuperJam until the end, Matt got his Phish dose that he needed, he said he felt like he was back in time. He was all excited and no longer tired so we went to DJ Sasha...where we danced the night away. Sunday, the final day, was finally upon us. I was dirty, so were my friends. We got up early to go see Matisyahu at the Sonic Stage, it was pouring down rain. Matis, as I like to call him, sang a Hisidic blessing. By song's end the rain had stopped and he was taking questions, someone shouted "whats your favorite cereal?" and he replied with "Cocoa Krispies". After this show my pals went back to the tent and I headed for Brother's Past. I got there just in time for Simple Gift of Man. After I headed to the main stage for Bela Fleck I took a snooze and listened. After I ran into my pal Parker there and we chilled through moe.. I later ran into Matt, we listened to Phil Lesh until we got the call that it was time to leave. We trekked back to the site, Camp Zoolander was looking a lot less crowded and lively for the first time since Friday. We piled in, I fell asleep, I woke up 20 miles from my home. That's Bonnaroo in a nutshell. This is taken from www.sullystravels.com you can also see pictures from Bonnaroo here. 6/20/06 - Bonnaroo Festival It was 7 pm on a Wednesday and most people were heading home from work. The six of us had a 15-passenger van that was painted and filled with all kinds of goodies – guitars, tents, beer, food – and were not heading home from work. Nor were we heading to work the next day. We were heading 1200 miles and 20 hours south to Manchester, Tennessee, to watch over 100 bands play music for four days in one of America’s new biggest festivals. We were headed to Bonnaroo. We drove straight through to Maryland where we picked up our friend Jess at the convenient hour of 3 am on Thursday. Already Mike had driven almost 9 hours but we were barely halfway through this one. We could tell we were getting close, though. Not because the sun was beginning to rise and reveal different southern landscapes, but because the amount of cars passing and honking at us began to increase. Everyone was enjoying our van that had painted musicians on its sides. About 4 pm on Thursday, we were in the venue and setting up camp in a blistering heat, already grimy and tired from the ride down. It was time to settle down, grill up some food, crack a cold one and meet the neighbors. Across from us sat a young couple that would keep to themselves the rest of the weekend. They’d cook their food together, sit together, talk to each other, indeed, just stay together with each other all weekend. That’s all they wanted to do and everyone let them do it, although occasionally they’d look over at us and laugh out our idiocy. To our right, however, revealed a different story. John and “Turtle” were “festival roadies.” They had just come from a previous tour in the Carolinas and were off to another one after this. Since they’d been constantly touring, they had plenty of stories, especially Turtle, who looked like a 30-year-old Frank Zappa. Turtle was quite the wise sage when it came to festivals. Indeed, this is why he had purchased a cheap pair of $9 Velcro sneakers. “Why spend any more when I’m just gonna ruin em, man?” he so elegantly put. “These are my official concert shoes, man.” Yes, Turtle was wise with festivals, but not much else it seemed. “I can’t drive at night anymore because I’ve done too many drugs and it messes with my head, man,” he told us. Then he began to explain how he’d only drive at night with his hazards on because it looked cool blinking. I began to see some formation of how one gets the nickname “Turtle” in my head. There were people from all walks of life here – all states, all countries, all generations, in all shapes and sizes. Indeed, before the week was through, I’d meet people from all over the country and beyond. There was the humble couple from Minnesota; there were the two crazy guys from England; there were the old-timer New Yorkers who had flown and rented a car; there were people from Chicago, California, Ohio, Maine, Arizona, Canada; there was the guy from Texas who kept everyone hydrated during Radiohead by constantly spraying his water bottle; there was the beautiful blonde from Norway. There were babies and there were grandparents. There were high school students and college students. There were hippies and there were yuppies. There were Hasidic Jews and Evangelical Christians. There was everybody. Yet everyone was ready to get down and get into the only thing that can bring everybody together: some damn good music. The music started playing Thursday night and didn’t stop until Phil Lesh’s “Box of Rain” encore late Sunday night. In between laid a bit of everything. There truly was something for everybody. On one stage they’d have good ‘ole American rocker Elvis Costello while rap group Cypress Hill jammed out on another. Bonnie Raitt would play her slide on one stage while Moe. would jam out on the main stage. On Saturday I managed to cover my widest range of genres yet, starting with a scoop of vanilla ice cream with Swedish avant-garde group Dungen. Then over to the main stage for a scoop of New Orleans’ based Neville Brothers followed with a nice caramel sauce topping of Beck (my favorite). After that, I topped it off with the cherry and Radiohead, the night’s headliner. But then I grabbed another helping with legendary Dr. John and Nighttripper. After that and still hungry, I continued stuffing my fat face with Trey Anastasio and Mike Gordon of Phish as they jammed out with the Grateful Dead’s own Phil Lesh during the SuperJam. And then….it was time to cap it all off with some house music and Europe’s famous DJ Sasha. And then, still hungry… I passed out because it was 6 am and my legs were about to fall off. After four days of non-stop music, it was time to go. Much to my dismay, a supposed real world lay beyond these trees that sheltered 80,000 of us in from the rest of the world on a farm in the middle of Nowhere, Tennessee. For me, though, this only marks the beginning of my journey. In less than a week I embark upon my “real” journey through Latin America. While time seemed to seep by a few months ago as I awaited to depart, now it seems to have leaped as my departure is already here. I leave on Friday. I know what I leave behind. But I don’t know what I’m about to discover.