Roo 2011; Part 1

"I'm going where there ain't no fear ...
I'm going where the living is easy,
and the people are kind.
A new state of mind.

I'm going where there ain't no need,
to escape from what is.
Only spirits at ease."

-My Morning Jacket, Wonderful (the way I feel)




Technology is the worst. Without fail, the occasions it chooses to let us down are atrocious. The internet signal goes out just before you can send the most important e-mail of your life. Your car breaks down on a deserted highway and your cell phone is dead. Twenty minutes into a long road trip the iPod freezes. We've all been there; cursing, screaming, sometimes punching. Murphy's Law strikes at random but is unavoidable none the less.

Don't get me wrong, I recognize the advancement and integration of technology is part of our daily lives. You can't get very far without the convenience of a cell phone. Who wants to lug around hundreds of CDs when they can all fit in the palm of your hand? However in some instance I refuse to budge. The latest piece of new age shit to be added to my "waste of time list" are car GPS systems. I've given them a fair shake. Even to places I frequent I've used digital turn by turn instructions. Nine out of ten times they take me off my usual course on a detour longer than the old route. For places I've never been, printed MapQuest directions have never steered me too far of course so I'm sticking with them. Maybe you swear by the annoying computer voice telling you to turn left into a lake by my latest GPS blunder (on the way to Bonnaroo) was the straw that broke the camels back ...

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It was the second tour of duty for Dylan and I. Back in '09 we'd gone together and loved every second of it. Opting in for the Tenth Year Aniversiy seemed like a no-brainer. Last time we'd traveled through Nashville en-route to Manchester, TN home of The Arts and Music Festival. Unfortunately this time the computer had us going through Knoxville, which turned out to be a huge mistake. The unfamiliar directions had us winding along scenic backwood state routes, through tight mountain passes and traversing abrupt 15 MPH curves. The colorful screen that looks cool when it works was really sticking it to us at the moment; bending us over it's knee, burying its' metaphorical phallic deep inside, laughing the whole time without asking us how we were feeling about the whole experience. After denying it for at least 20 miles I finally acknowledged the obvious. We were lost.

Why the hell hadn't we printed directions before we left? That much was our fault but the rest was the bullshit equipment. Automatic updates aren't a given when you're in BFE Tennessee, far from a wifi signal. Alternate routes weren't coming up until we'd already missed the mentioned turn. The ladies voice coming through the car speakers made me want to break things. Shut up you bitch! You didn't know what the hell your talking about! This is why I will NEVER use/trust a GPS ever again.

We stopped at a gas station to get situated and ran into a Roo bound crew all the way from Quebec. Despite being stoned out of their minds they seemed like an interesting group of people. They were most stoked about Arcade Fire, who hailed from Montreal. A bit baked myself from earlier in the trip, their french accented English made me chuckle under my breath. Back in some semblance of society our directions finally caught up and we were in business. The Canucks followed us until we came to the procession ... an endless snaking line parked on the berm of highway 24. The police presence was heavier than I remembered and more than a little bit intimidating. I became nervous about the weed I'd stashed in my shampoo bottle but projected confidence anyway.

After the longest two hours of our lives we'd made it to check in. A cluster of pigs with their police dogs were telling people to turn off on the right. They were going through four vehicles with a fine tooth comb. White latex gloves on their hands and shit eating smirks on their faces, they were eager to find any bookable offense. I instinctively stayed to the left and was glad to be driving my dad's pick-up truck which was easier to search and less suspicious. I felt a little more at ease about my drug mule status. The more I studied the various Roo Crew member searches on our side the less comfortable I became. They seemed to be digging just as deep as the Police. We saw beer bongs, glass bottles, cases of Natural Light, firecrackers and most surprisingly glow sticks confiscated at an alarming rate.

Glow sticks had been a stable of almost every show held after sundown the last two years. Why take them now and simply throw them away? There's no way an environmentally conscious festival would do that. The only conclusion we came to was that maybe the higher ups were using the sticks to buy favor of The Bonnaroo Tribe Indians. Paying for their allegiance in confiscated glowing plastic. This would ensure the tribe knew their roll; crowd control and recon. A set of eyes on the inside ... a non-violent new wave Gestapo there to make sure everything ran smoothly, people stayed safe and most importantly they continued to spend money.

The bright orange VW love bus ahead of us was irritating me. There was no doubt in my mind they'd be searched extra hard. Before I'd finished cursing out hippies to Dylan I was shocked to see them get waved through without being scrutinized at all. We hoped luck would be on our side too. We were approached by staff members in their early twenties who asked the usual questions; no glass, drugs, or fire works. We had the allotted amount of beer (a case per person), no glass/explosives and stated the bold face lie of NO narcotics. They appeared to believe us and without so much as a peek into the bed of the truck they let us through. Splendid.

We parked and sprang into action. Tarps and tent poles flying we got things in order surprisingly fast. After the frenzy that is erecting camp we relaxed and made nice with our co-inhabitants. One of the best things about the whole experience is the new friends you make around homebase. Strangers would quickly became neighbors in the days to come. As always, it was a diverse group. The kids from Jersey right next door, a young couple from Ann Arbor a few tents down and a group of five college students from Michigan State University behind us. Michigan was representing extra hard. The fact that Detroit native Eminem was headlining wasn't lost on anyone. Of all our neighbors the kids from MSU were my favorite. Over burgers, bowls and beers we talked about the finer points of everything. Dylan and I took to calling them the Spartys. Unaware of the ultra-intense rivalry between the two schools, I made the mistake of asking why they picked State over UofM.

"It's hard to get into UofM," one of the girls explained. "They favor Asians and people from the sands ... they're un-American." I didn't peg her as a racist, judging by the fact that she was white and had already mentioned she was most excited to see Lil Wayne. Being a Buckeye by birth I wasn't arguing with her. Either way we all snickered over of the offhand comment. Before long we heard another instant classic. A small group of guys drinking on the footpath nearby were catcalling passing vixens.

"Ladies come join us," one said. "We have honey roasted peanuts." He was so nonchalant and deadpan it was startling. None of us could control our laughter. While cleaning up our tailgate grilling station we were approached by our first drug peddler of the weekend. He had some hash tar and was offering his product at a fair price. It smelled very legit but I wanted to wait it out and see what else came my way first. No reason to blow your wad on day one. Before I knew it, I could hear the faint whine of electric guitars permeating from Center-Roo. The music was starting. After our long chill session with former perfect strangers the familiar vibe of peace, love and excitement was in the air. It was time to head in.

Dylan, The Spartys and me didn't have much of an agenda so we wondered about for an hour or so. The only show I was really digging were the Freelance Whales but we didn't stay long enough for me to get a real strong feel for what they were all about. One of the guys wanted to see Band of Skulls so we stopped by for a song or two. Sorry to say I don't see what all the fuse was about. They weren't bad but the girls were NOT feeling it. One of them suggested an up and coming rapper named J. Cole. He's a protegee of Jay-Z and the first to be signed to the mogul's new Roc Nation record label. I didn't know any of his songs but was drawn in immediately. His rare combination of polish and clear carrying vocals made his punch lines easy to catch. The high quality production value was icing on the cake. We stayed for the entire set. He was by far the best on Day One.

By the next show, rolling on 36 hours with no sleep had begun to take its' toll. I hadn't laid down since Tuesday night. Now it was past midnight on Thursday. I wanted to fully enjoy my first night in paradise but every minute that passed made it more difficult. When The Walkmen took the stage at That Tent I was running on fumes. Sleep would close in on me swiftly whether I liked it or not. I Pictured myself going down hard face first. A broken nose would ruin my trip for sure. Unable to fight it any longer, I high tailed it back to camp at a half jog. Eventually we all have to answer to a higher power. The curtain was closing fast. Within seconds of returning to my tent I was out for the count, sleeping the sleep of the dead.

-J.R.