Last day Bonnaroo blues used to hit me a bit harder I think… Now I’m usually good and ready to split. Sure I get a bit nostalgic about a week down the line when I’m sitting in an office not doing awesome stuff, but in the immediate thereafter I’m stoked on a shower and a good night’s sleep.
So rather then try and get it all in, we take Sunday chill, appreciate what we’ve seen and what we’ve done, some of us even spank off in the tent. Not naming names, but rhymes with loose-man. What can you say, it was a good week, dude had a lot of pent up enjoyment. Yes it was 100 degrees and humid, yes there were five dudes sitting outside the tent unknowing, no, I ain’t mad at that.
Our buddies the Mowglis dropped by for an afternoon session. It was their first Bonnaroo and they were loving it. They jumped right on the AK-47 tequila bottle and to my surprise jumped on some dirty cheeseburgers that I fried up in a pan that was less then sanitary. I figured The Mowglis or part of The Mowglis for vegetarians, but no, turns out The Mowglis love cheeseburgers. They love a lot of things, and they sing about that love pretty damn nicely.
We kicked it with them for a while, and of course they were stoked to chill with Spud. He had a big-ass smile on his face too, and he definitely made it out to their show later in the day and danced his ass off.
Our final session was with He’s My Brother, She’s My Sister. There are in fact a couple other parts to this band then just a brother and a sister, but there is indeed that pairing. Said sister showed up in a long dress. When she emerged from the van after dropping sweat weight during the session, she had shed the length from her dress by detaching the bottom half of the skirt. It was a good look.
They also delivered the first tap dancing percussion ever to be mic’d up in the Jam Van, so look forward to that.
Out and about on the festival grounds we got to take in some hip hop, starting with Action Bronson, AKA Bronsolini. He’s our boy Chach’s hero, and it wasn’t no way Chach was going to let us miss this show. The big guy even gave Chachy a pre-show hi-five and a post-show photo op. It was probably the best day of our boy’s life. Take in mind that the next day Chach would return to his desk as an elevator lawyer (real talk), and so touching the sweat on Bronsolini’s forearm was kind of a big deal.
We followed up Bronsolini with Australia’s own Tame Impala. This was a good time because I got to hit the band with Jam in the Van Bracelets and I also got to hit David Cross with a Jam in the Van bracelet. The music didn’t really stand out too much from any other Tame Impala show that I’ve been to. Just the Jam Van bracelet shooting, that was real.
After Tame Impala we checked out some of The National, which was another set I absolutely had not wanted to miss. So since my friends are such awesome people and totally put my happiness first, they allowed me to watch about one and a half songs before bitching incessantly that The National was boring and they wanted to go see ASVP. The National is not boring, they are awesome. Fughin, awesome. I compromised and saw 3 songs. I need new friends.
From there it was on to ASVP Rocky. We got to catch his pre-show prayer and take a picture of it even though his big security guard said “no pictures fam.” I assumed he was only referring to ASVP’s fam, so I didn’t listen to the request. Having time to reflect on the experience, show included, I’m curious as to what the ASVP Mob prays about before the show. Because during the show they jump around a lot, yell about getting turnt up, degrade women, and call “all the bad bitches up onto the stage” to twerk and get naked. I really dug all of that, but I’m not sure what God or Jesus or whomever they prayed to was going to do towards it. Seems a bit sinful. So maybe they just pray that they have a good show and leave the details for later.
Anyways, Goose Man got to sneak up on stage during the “bad bitch” sequence, and then got himself a pretty tight high five from ASVP after the show. He’s essentially in the mob now. Probably took ASVP Ferg’s spot, because his cameo was less then stellar that day.
Then it all came to an abrupt ending at Petty. My thing with Petty is that I can handle about 2-4 songs in a row. I gave this night about 6, because even though the rain was starting to come down and my body was pretty much resigning for the weekend, it was still the end, and you have to take one last breath.
So I went to sleep with rain pattering on the tent, woke up to take a piss at 4 AM and found my crew partying with Mowglis and Bonnaroo staff in a downpour, shook my head at myself for being too tired to hang, and then went back to sleep only to awake to an epic rain-soaked mess. Packing in a monsoon is not cool. Whoever made off with the brand new tents we left behind, you’re welcome.
No worries though, because it always ends with a Cracker Barrel run, a very dirty, very tired, Cracker Barrel run. The food ain’t never that good, but the waitress is always friendly, always knows you just came from Bonnaroo, and the friends you’re there with usually make it taste as good as it needs to. That’s the end. There ain’t no more. Until next year.