If Crockett could rock it

Manchester, TN is a rather small town. If you were engaged in a Rush Limbaugh talk-show while at the wheel, there would be a good chance you would pass without notice of it's existence. There's a Wal-Mart, a tiny but substantial tobacco shop and a hotel with exceptionally clean bathrooms. Once a year for one weekend in the month of June, the town is host to the most prominent music festival in the United States.

This festival, called Bonnaroo and put on by Superfly Productions, is found by most to be an enjoyable place. However, there was one year when an intoxicated man got hit by Ricky Skaggs' tour bus. While it is a shame that this man has passed, I would venture to say that even he found Bonnaroo to be an enjoyable place and that he was having a good enough time there to think going in the road when a bus was coming a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Perhaps he heard the flicks of Skaggs' mandolin from an open bus-window and felt compelled to sacrifice himself in honor of the wondrous sound. While much of these details and motives could never be known, it seems obvious that this occurrence is one of unique circumstance and undeniable peculiarity. Within the festival, one wouldn't have to stumble far to see things that echo The Skaggs-Bus Incident's bizarre spirit.

At the center of the concert grounds there is a large mushroom that acts as a shower-head but there is no curtain and some people still feel the need to bathe naked. There are a few over-sized human heads on sticks that look like the skin is falling off their faces. People bring big tanks with nitrous oxide in them and huff the gas out of balloons with no regard for the brain-damaging effects. There is even a Silent Disco where people put head-phones on and dance with a bunch of other people who are doing the same. This is an activity that is as fun for the spectators as it is for the participants.

Camping takes place in a large field where most of the folks you meet are just as friendly as can be, even though some of them are a bit off-kilter. Tattoos and dreadlocks are common sights and everybody is taking drugs and talking about weird things like how the government is trying to police us and that it is not a good idea to fill out any of the information that you get in the mail because the American government is trying to police the world and that maybe we as citizens should be more suspicious about the possible existence of aliens and whether or not the government might be withholding information about potential extra-terrestrials or dropping pesticides from helicopters. You might smile and think to yourself that some of these people are just a little bit off their rockers or perhaps you will engage in the dialogue and find that you rather enjoy conversing with these delightful weirdos as you crack another can of beer and suck foam from the top of it.

As the weekend progresses and constant perspiration becomes a prescribed side-effect of the atmosphere, initial avoidance of the porta-potties gradually morphs into all out embrace of filth, grime and fun. Many relax all day and wait for the sun to drop and when it does everyone starts cheering and lighting up cigarettes. If you were in one of the helicopters that occasionally fly by, you might not be able to make a distinction between the stars and the flames on the lighters. Some people will get drunk and pass out too early to see that sight. Some might stay up all night watching a woman that juggles fire while Les Claypool is on a nearby stage wearing a pig-mask yelling, "So what do I do now? Go to sleep? Pull the pud? We need new pornos!"