FTR – 10
Too much to even begin to cover from yesterday. Highlights include:
- Spun out dude named Egypt who could speak only three words: “Family!” and “Welcome home…” He was wandering around the campground, going up to strangers and welcoming them home, then pulling some mushies out of a bag and feeding them to the family member he just “recognized.”
- Chilling with Dmitri by a river bed. Dude made me see every blade of grass waving in the wind individually. So fucking beautiful…
- The rush of sneaking Smokey and Spitz in the center gate with fake wristbands – “it just feels like the inside of my heart is coated with Icy-Hot!”
- Ripple! They never play Ripple, but they did! Hearing Truckin’ live was wicked too… hell, I love American Beauty, cliche though it may be, but hearing Sugar Magnolia or Friend of the Devil live was fucking sick. Granted I ran into Dmitri again during the second set and got trapped in the Stealy over the stage, but I think they ended with One More Saturday Night on the main stage before moving inside (and Phil and Bob and a menagerie of other musicians who kept getting rotated in played ’til like 4) and given that it was Saturday, and I was tripping face, I picked up on the connection like that!
- When the power went out for the spotlights over the campgrounds. The one head in the dark, in the dirt, loogies being hawked all around him, shady characters selling cryptic t shirts, and this one dude happily proclaimed, “there is nowhere I’d rather be right now!” Smokey and I exchanged a glance – Really?? Like, seriously dude?
- The cops on a golf cart stopping 100 feet in front of me and Smokey in the unlit campgrounds – “Hey Smokey, you think the cops are here to bust that dreaded hippie chick who’s spinning the fire poi things over there, or those dirty fuckers with the leaky nitrous tank right next to her, or the thousands of other illegal things going on around here… actually, moving the open flame away from a leaky tank of explosive gas probably isn’t the worst idea in the world…”
Then the dude next to me and Smokey starts scolding us “You guys shouldn’t be laughing, he’s getting busted for that tank and it’s not even his tank, man…”
I looked at Smokey. ”There’s only one way you could know if that’s not his tank… and that’s if it is your tan-” I was pointing toward the guy, who had just disappeared into the shadows.In a last-ditch effort, I tried negotiating with the cops, hiding behind a car and screaming, “this is a hostage situation! We’ll give you two hippies for fifty balloons!!” - The ice cream cooler that was outside the food vending booth. I picked out an ice cream bar, held it up to the guy with a $1 bill and a twenty and kept trying to mime “how much?” to him. It felt like an eternity, and then he told me $4.75, and didn’t even take the cash I was holding. In that instant, Smokey and I both realized the absurdity of the situation, and that that was clearly not that guy’s ice cream – otherwise it would have been on his side of the counter. ”$4.75?” I laughed, and walked away, ice cream and twenty-one dollars in hand, while he dealt with the post-third-set-line behind me. ”I tried to make it easy for him and just give him a dollar, but no, he was on some power trip… and who leaves a cooler of ice cream where Deadheads can just reach into it anyways? Rookie mistake…”
- Running into the bald kids I almost got thrown out with like four more times. ”You’re still here? Wicked!”
- Introducing my friend Smokey to an old hippie dude, also named Smokey, giving out free beer and frozen, bacon-wrapped beef medallions like fifty feet from our cars. Smokey Sr. rigged up his pickup truck with a flash freezer, and was trying to learn the internet to get his meat delivery business going. Dude had some cold fucking Budweisers – reaching into the cooler hurt like frostbite so much that reaching in there became dubbed “fighting the beer sharks.” Smokey Sr. was thrice divorced, and had the best one-liners for each of his ex-wives. When a panicked tripper about me and Smokey Jr.’s age popped up looking for a dog, Smokey Sr. fielded it like a pro.
“You lost your dog?”"No, it wasn’t even my dog, it was this girl’s dog!”We were all laughing, but Smokey Sr. reminded the kid how screwed he was.”You don’t even know, man! I just met her today. How do I find this dog?”“Okay, here’s what you do. Forget about the dog. Lose the girl. Forget about the girl. You ever fought the beer sharks before?”
Can I just say that I am loving the fuck out of this place? It’s morning now, Smokey and I grilled up the meat medallions that were thawing under my car while I tried to get a two hour nap in, and Smokey Sr. (who has been awake since before the sound check) is going on a run into town to get more beer. Orange juice, dude? …not from concentrate, if possible!
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