The morning of June 10th came. A few friends and I still had no idea how we were getting there, but we somehow knew that that day, we would make our way to Manchester, Tennessee to experience the best weekend of our lives.
“My sister’s letting me take her car,” was hands down one of the greatest texts I have ever received. 1:00 PM rolled around just as slowly as my friend’s (sister’s) little white car rolled onto my block and stopped right in front of my house. My ride to Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival was here. I carried out all of my necessities and put them into the already jam-packed car. I was relieved to actually fit in the backseat, but before I could even let out a sigh of relief, I found out we were picking up two more people. By the time we got the boys, we were full-on playing Tetris in order to get everything to fit into this trunk.
I volunteered to take the middle seat, but my friend insisted he take it, and I mean, if he really wanted to be cramped up for 8 hours, fine by me. But I’ll save you the rest of the details. To summarize the ride up: it was hot, sweaty, claustrophobic, full of laughs and amazing music.
8 hours later we pulled up to the huge line of cars being searched and scanned to get into the farm. The excitement was at an all time high when they finally directed us to our camping spot and we saw that we were a 5 minute walk from “Centeroo.” We unpacked our tents and by 2:00am we finally sat down to enjoy each others company and a few “beverages.”
We sat, talked and laughed until someone noticed the sun was rising and suggested we go to bed because of the long day, and weekend that laid ahead. I readily agreed. I crawled into my cool tent and eventually fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, little did I know I would wakeup in the damn Devil’s inferno. They tell you it’s going to be hot, almost too hot to tolerate, but what they forget to tell you is that your tent is going to be at least 10000000 degrees hotter than the outside air. I quickly threw my sticky blankets off of me and put on the smallest shorts I had and the thinnest tank top I could find. This weekend I found out I have an amazing talent for wearing the least amount of clothing while still being fully clothed.
The next few days were filled with great friends, crazy visitors, questionable “salesmen,” endless belly laughs, and really really good music. Every time I rant about this festival (which is a lot) I can’t help but talk more about the people than the music. I have never in my entire life experienced more accepting or friendly people than the “roovians" on that farm. At home, I’m the friend always begging other people to stay positive but here, I was one of thousands radiating positivity. It was absolutely beautiful, actually, it was so much more than that, there is no single word to describe the people on the farm and the ways they affected me.
From making friends from 15 different states in a 12 hour wait to see Mumford and Sons (front row may I add,) to meeting people who live 10 minutes away from me that have become some of my best and closest friends. There’s a type of magic on the farm that I can’t, and I don't think anyone can describe, but it just brings people together. I have never felt the genuine happiness that I felt that weekend and I know I won’t feel it again until June 9th. Until then, thanks for changing my life and see you soon Bonnaroo 2016 *high-five.*
