Unfortunately, for the second year in-a-row, I was duped into going to the best/worst experience of your life. That's right, I could only be talking about that glorious, mud-soaked, hippie haven known as Bonnaroo. Though the naysayers this year were many, the people who actually made trip were not disappointed.

The roster for this year's Bonnaroo Auburn delegation was as follows:

- Sean A.
- Miles B.
- Caroline G.
- Rollie H.
- Lauren J.
- Conor O.
- Richard P.
- Me

Before we even left Auburn, this year's trip had a few obstacles. Or, actually just one obstacle: Rollie. You see, last year we left for Bonnaroo at 4:30 in the morning. This year that was going to be impossible. Rollie was coming back from the Auburn High School Band's trip to Hawaii. Rollie's plane was set to arrive at the Atlanta/Hartsfield International Airport at 6 AM on the same morning as the Bonnaroo departure.

In preparation for this, the participants in this jaunty excursion loaded down the Bonnaroo-bound vehicles (those being Miles' Chevrolet Trail Blazer, and Lauren's Ford Explorer) the night before we left. The plan being that we would get a call from Rollie as soon as he got home from the airport. We estimated this to be around 8 or 8:30 AM. We expected to be on the road by, no later than, 9:30.

Cut to the day of:

Thursday, June 9, 2005

We left Auburn bright and early Thursday morning at 11:30 AM. After putting some air in her tires, and insisting that she be able to lead the expedition, Lauren lead the group in her car which was carrying: Rollie, Caroline, and Richard. Their car was followed as closely as could be expected by Miles' blue beauty. Miles' Trail Blazer carried Conor, Sean, and myself. I was sitting shotgun, a position in the car that I had called months in advance.

Wanting to make good time, Lauren shredded down I-85, by my estimation, at anywhere from 400 to 750 miles-per-hour. This left Miles to fend for himself in the directions department. As a result, Miles missed the turn for the Atlanta Bypass. When we finally did catch up with them, Lauren was perturbed, to say the least, over Miles' incompetence.

After finally making it to I-75, our heroes made their way to Chattanooga, TN. It was there we stopped for lunch at the local Subway. It was also in Chattanooga where Miles, surprisingly, entrusted me to operate the vehicle all the way to Manchester.

Being the speed freak that I am, I had no trouble keeping up with Lauren. Though, that didn't stop her from continuing to drive like an escaped mental patient. There were points in which we would both be riding in the right lane, then, as soon as a car was about to come up behind me and block the left lane, Lauren would... well, I would say "switch lanes", but that's too gentle... she would blitzkrieg the left lane, thus making it impossible for me to switch lanes and stay right behind her.



After crossing the Tennessee River, we hit a massive rain storm. It was too ominous for my liking.

We made our last pit stop before reaching the 'Roo at a Texaco in the Tennessee River Valley. Expecting to be sitting in a line of traffic on the interstate for at least two hours, I took the opportunity to stock up on drink and vittles.

Winding up into the mountains above Monteagle, TN, I knew we were getting close. That big fucking line was coming any second now. I could sense its presence. We passed the sign that said "Manchester- 15 Miles". Now that line was really close. In fact, last year that's where the line started.

Cruising along, traffic was getting thicker. Suddenly, we passed the Wal-Mart. It was then I thought to myself, "Shit, the Wal-Mart is right next to... THE ENTRANCE! Fuck, we're here!"

I absolutely could not believe it. There was no line this year. We completely bypassed the worst moment of yesteryear's Bonnaroo. Utmost elation grabbed hold of every tissue in my body.

We followed the electric signs that told us to pull off onto the shoulder. I turned into the entrance, as the heroic men and women of the Tennessee State Troopers flagged me into the acid-soaked Neverland of Bonnaroo. I smiled big as I passed by the last cops I'd see for the next three days.



Even though we were spared the indignity of waiting on a white hot interstate, we did have to wait in this line, but the wait wasn't too bad. Plus, it spawned another great catchphrase, as, at one point, Conor referred to Miles a "prepubescent cum-bubble." Genius, shear genius.

This year we were at "Camp C3PO". This put us extremely close to the stages and activity area known as "Centeroo".

Despite the short walk from the action, there was notable downside to our campsite. We were set up directly in front of a tower that broadcast music 24/7. That's right, we were camped under the official Bonnaroo Radio tower. So, no matter what, there was music. This was nice for a while. It later turned un-nice.

After setting up camp, Conor, Rollie, Sean, Miles and I decided to go to Centeroo to check out the action. After going through considerably extensive searches at the gate, we all finally got into Centeroo.





Goiter walked into Centeroo wearing, what Adam G. described best as, "a lovely shade of bitch." Seriously, he looks like a very elderly woman in these pictures. I'm lovin' it.



After being in Centeroo for about four and a half seconds, Conor, Rollie, and Miles decided that it was time to go back to camp. I was baffled, to say the least, by their apathy towards the wonders of Centeroo. Fortunately, Sean was equally as gung-ho as I. So we pressed on into the heart of Bonnaroo.



The first curiosity we happened upon was the Scratch DJ Academy sponsored by the good folks at Volkswagen. The event was being MC'd by the man pictured above, DJ Sugar Ray. No, he's not the DJ for the band Sugar Ray. That's DJ Homicide, stupid asshole.



Sean and I both gave the scratching game a whirl. Sean is now bound and determined to buy a set of turntables. I'm all for that. Apparently, I was pretty good at scratching. At least that's what the teacher guy said. Yay!

We moved on from the Scratch Academy to a very curious booth. The sign said "The Meatrix". Right when I saw that, I put my fists up and prepared to fight any PETA motherfucker who might approach me. I was ready to kill the first asshole who splashed blood on me and my leather shoes.

Fortunately, this booth was not sponsored by PETA. These people weren't vegetarians or, worse, vegans. No, they were simply people who didn't like "corporate meat". They were just pushing for organic meat stuffs from now on. As long as they're still eating meat, I won't have to kill them.

After talking with The Meatrix people for awhile, they invited us into "the bubble".





"The Bubble" was just a big white plastic air filled balloon room. It definitely beat being out in the sun.



We continued our stroll through Centeroo.





We wound up at the bobbleheads. They were looking groovy as usual.



After a quick stop at the, always ridiculously over-priced, merch tent, Sean and I headed back to camp.





Miles and Conor were fast asleep when we arrived back at camp.

I took the liberty of starting the charcoal and putting meat on the grill.

Dinner was scrumptious, and Grilleroo went off without a hitch for the second year in a row.

After some lazing around the campsite, it was time to go to Centeroo once again to catch the first important show: Gabby La La featuring Les Claypool.

Unfortunately, before Claypool was to grace our presence, we had to sit through another band, Perpetual Groove.

This is a band whose name really gives you a good idea of what you're in for: long, mostly boring hippie/trance jam session. Here's the thing, I'm all for long, mostly boring hippie/trance jam sessions, just not when I'm waiting for God (a.k.a. Les Claypool) to come out on stage.





Sean, Conor, and I rested our weary bones up against the barrier fence as we listened to the jammin'.

Apparantly, it was a little too jammin' for me, because, next thing you know, I'm fast asleep. Yes, sitting right next to a speaker, I managed to fall asleep. The last thing I remember seeing before I closed my eyes was a man vomiting on the ground about ten feet away from where I was seated. My last thought before slipping into unconsciousness was: "Fuck! I'm going to get puked on... oh well." I slept through the entire Perpetual Groove show, well, almost.

I was roused to my feet by Conor. The song playing in the background was very loud and intense. It sounded very familiar to me. "They're playing 'Bulls on Parade'!," Conor said excitedly.





Indeed, they were. Perpetual Groove was doing a 100% faithful cover of "Bulls on Parade" by Rage Against the Machine.

I jumped around like a wounded animal in my dazed, half-asleep state. All the moshing got me ready for what was about to come.



At exactly 11:15 PM, Gabby La-La took the stage. (I know, because my camera has timestamp. So, suck it!)



The crowd reaction was rather large. Gabby began playing her miniature keyboard and singing. Her voice sounds like... if sugar made noise. Gabby La-La has the most high pitched voice I've ever heard outside of a Chinese Buffet, and it's awesome.

Halfway through her song, The Colonel graces us with his presence. The crowd goes fucking ape shit. Wearing a pig mask, the one-and-only, Les Claypool grabbed his extraordinarily narrow stand-up bass, and begins playing along with Gabby La-La's piano.



Here's the thing I love about Les Claypool: Claypool has the ability to take something as cute and precious as Gabby La-La's voice, and using, only a bass guitar, can turn it into pure evil.







Yeah, I took lots of pictures of Les Claypool.

The show went for a while, and it was excellent. I suggest that you check out Gabby La-La's CD: Be Careful What You Wish For.... It's worth a listen for sure.

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