Bonnaroo: The Beginning of the End

I know it's going to be a good last day when I wake up having actually gotten a decent night's sleep and our neighbor's stereo (yes, it's still on!) is playing Wilco's I am Trying to Break Your Heart. (For those not in the know, it's one of my favorite songs.) Things I forgot to mention in recounting saturday's events: I broke down and took a shower. There was no hot water. It was fucking freezing. Still the best shower I've ever taken in my life. That said, it's Sunday morning and I'm basically a dustmonster again.

Sunday is our slow day; we camp out early at the Which Stage, set up my blanket and decide to not move until we must. Continuing with my trend of breaking down, I also buy a burrito. The burrito stand is self-serve and it's $8.00 for a tortilla, so I make it go a LONG way by filling the burrito to the point where I discover that I can't actually roll it up. My burrito mission had been a bit of a concern since Teal and Kelsey were also going to get food and we didn't want to leave our stuff unattended. Luckily, we have just met a group of girls from American University and bonded over our shared interests in siting on blankets and playing card games. They watch our stuff for us.

Equally fortunate is the fact that all the early bands I want to see are on the Which Stage, so we sit and relax for several hours, playing cards, conversing with the American ladies, and rocking out to the music of Pete Yorn, Wolf Mother, and the Decemberists. Our blanket site turns out to be less than ideal when we discover that there is a large beer stand directly between us and the band. Fairly drained from everything else that's happened this weekend, we don't mind, not even a little. Around this time we also discover that Kelsey's aviators are not particularly well-suited (pardon the pun) for playing card games.

So the natural question is, of course, what happens with the cute American girls? The answer is nothing, and the reason has nothing to do with the inherent cockblocking that happens when you're living in a tent with two girls or it being Sunday. The real reason is, simply, I am FAR too dirty to even consider making out with anyone. There are different sorts of dirty. Muddy and sweaty and such, fine. But dust is a whole different beast. It covers your whole body like a film; you can't get it off, really, and it doesn't just dry up. It's not so much a separate object as it is something that permeates you. Like having a really nasty flu, it's something of a turn off. Teal disagrees with my assessment, but I stand by it.

Anyway. It's time to stand up and actually move, because Wilco is playing at the What Stage. Their set is excellent if a bit predictable. They play most of the songs they've been playing recently; it's more or less Kicking Television (their live album) plus some songs off their newest album. Still, it's Wilco! I mean, who really cares?

Following Wilco, we casually walk back to the Which Stage to see the White Stripes. For unknown reasons the air is filled with dust to the point where it starts to seem foggy out. The White Stripes start and end early, but their show is spot-on. Gone are the elaborate stage set-ups, marimbas and absurd costumes. It's back to Jack and Meg, in red and white, drums, guitar, and an electric piano. This is the first I've heard of their new songs (besides the single Icky Thump) and they really fit in with their early catalog-focused set. I won't spend too much time on the Stripes here, because I want to write an in-depth post about them soon, but I will say that playing We're Going to Be Friends and then announcing that someone in the audience would like to propose to his girlfriend is a pretty classy move.

As the Stripes' set ends, I turn around and see a massive black smoke ring rising up over the concert. They've been doing this for the past two days, but this ring is perfectly lined up with a stream of white smoke from a jet. I can't help but feel that things have come to a close, even though we still have Widespread Panic to go see and a night of partying ahead of us. We spend a bit of time watching Widespread Panic, but none of us are particularly into them and we're totally drained anyway. Back at the tent, our neighbors are packing up their stuff to leave and their radio is finally off. I guess that's it, then. The next morning I'll fly home. Everything will be delayed, I'll miss a connection, end up at a different airport than I'd planned, and my luggage won't be back in my possession for three days, but for the moment, everything is right in the world, so I think I'll end here.