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Getting to Bonnaroo
Getting to Bonnaroo is the second installment of Nate Barrett's stories about playing in the Bonnaroompah Band in the Broo-er's Festival micro-beer garden tent at Bonnaroo 2007.
Without further ado, here's Nate: A little should be said of what Bonnaroo is before I go to much into detail of what I saw and didn’t see.
Bonnaroo is a beast of a party.
It is more than a festival, it is a test of endurance for the leisure minded. It is a hot, dusty, hot, drunk, hot, stoned, a little cooler in the evenings, stoned, still kind of stuffy, sweaty, sleepless, big ole ball of a good time.
It is four or five days that feel like a month. When it's over, your brain feels like it's somehow twisted itself sideways. You never want it to end, but by good goodly goodness, all you want is to go home.
If you have never been, go. Then you can stop asking me if you think its alright for your teenage daughters to go on their own, which is a very frequently asked question I get each year when tickets go on sale.
Even if it's not your bag, you will be hard pressed not to be amazed.
Getting to Bonnaroo: The Wednesday Before
After setting an exit time of 3:00 pm, we finally all arrived at the Pollard residence, packed and got ready to split around 4:30 (we’re all musicians, and that’s just how we roll).
Taking the back highways and soaking in the scenery and losing an hour somewhere between the rolling hills and gas stations, we arrived at the Holiday Inn Express in Manchester. This is where we were to undergo the first right of passage to get into the promised land. Something I like to call: going to the wrong place to get our performer credentials.
After piling in to the lobby and using the rest rooms (it was a bit of a drive after all) we start looking around at the mass of staff members all buzzing about. Phil, being the official Bonnaroompah spokesperson, began to look about for someone who might know who the heck might have our guest passes, meal tickets, and parking stickers. A very kind gentleman, when asked where we could find such things, asked Phil if we were vendors.
“No, I play polka” was the fitting response given back by our leader.
After being informed that no artists could get their creds before 10:30 the next morning, and after saying, yeah , but we were special, and after being told, no, not really, and making a few phone calls, we were directed to the place where we really needed to be - which was a quarter mile up the road at the employee check in center.
It was all taken care of eventually, and I could care less about all the trouble when I got that lanyard around my neck. When that laminate hits your chest, I swear you can feel sparks come off of it.
It's happening, you are really going to go through with this. You are really going to play at Bonnaroo! ...There's more to come soon on Nate Barrett's Bonnaroompah adventures. Stay tuned for more Getting to Bonnaroo!
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