That's right I went to two awesome concerts this weekend: The Roots on Friday night in Tuscaloosa, and Victor Lemonte Wooten on Saturday night in Atlanta.

Friday night Chandler, Sean, Rollie, and I rode up to go and see The Roots in Ye Olde T-Towne.



Upon our arrival, we had to take the homies to Old Bryce. It was quite intense. Richard and I gave "the new guys" the exclusive tour of the Alabama Bryce Hospital for the Insane. This is everyone posing in front of the, now famously lame, 'Fuck 62 Jewz' graffiti located near the cafeteria area in Old Bryce.



And, of course, what would a trip to Bryce be without a group shot next to 'Glutney'?

After touring the old hospital, we moved on the the newer (but still fucked up and abandoned) S.D. Allen Facility.



It seems that 'Cornflake' has recently made a trip to the facility in our absence.



After finishing off a few, already partially broken, plate glass windows, we got bored and we just had to set something aflame. Richard just happened upon a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Meanwhile, Chandler and I found a cardboard box of some sort (probably a hobo's bed). The forces combined and we had a raging alcohol fire going. (The fire was actually much larger than it appears here. The flash shrank it down quite significantly). We decided that, in the end, it needed to be put out, so we did.

We headed back into Tuscaloosa for the concert. After eating a nice meal at the cafeteria in Richard's dorm, we headed out to the quad to meet Ray and Kevin, and to see the show. After meeting up with said homies, we moved onto the quad. In the middle of the quad stood a four story tower of wooden palettes with a huge area around it marked off.





Within moments it was in flames. At times, the height of the flame themselves exceeded that of the actual tower.





It was quite a sight.



Chandler wanted me to turn that fire behind Honore into a burning cross. I wouldn't do that.



Oh wait, yeah I would. (J/K All)



Right before the concert began, Honore was so excited that a spotlight exploded out of his face and into the night sky.



The opening band, hometown heroes The Wayne Mills Band, proceeded to rock the fucking house with their cliche CMT country pop shit. It was one of those great "this sucks, so let's make it fun" situations. I danced my ass for the better part of the first three songs. Afterwards a middle-aged man standing behind me said, and I quote: "I've been enjoying the fuck out of watching you dance tonight, son." It was a little wierd.

The show started to turn really crazy at the end when they played the following

Sweet Home Alabama > Kashmir > Another Brick in the Wall > Sweet Home Alabama

Then, it was time for the main attraction: The Roots.





?uestLove was rocking a Bama jacket. Not exactly what I would've liked to have seen, but it's close enough.



A bunch of white frat boys giving the black power fist was a little strange for me. Imagine what it was like for The Roots.



I couldn't believe it, at one point the Roots played "Free Bird". The one time I didn't think to yell it at a concert, it happens. That's just my luck, I suppose.















It was awesome. Unfortunately, I've gotten out of concert shape since Bonnaroo. Standing up for extended periods of time with fits of dancing peppered in there is harder than you think.



Just ask Ray. He gave himself a Charleyhorse.

After the concert was over, we headed back over to Richard's dorm to lounge.



Rollie couldn't even wait to get to the dorm. He was so tired that he collapsed on the bacteria wasteland that is the floor of a college dormitory's elevator.



After sitting around Richard's room for about 30 minutes, it was time to leave. Unfortunately, no one in the party got to meet S.J. Pohuski. Maybe one of these days.

We said our goodbyes to Richard and we hit the road. We went through Montevallo in order to get on I-65, but unfortunately got stuck behind a train which was being loaded up at the chemical lime factory. We had to get on 65 by going through Alabaster. We got lost, it sucked. As a result, we rolled into Auburn at around 3:30 in tha AM.



The next morning my ears were still ringing.

Tomorrow: The Victor Wooten show