Bonnaroovian

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We hopped off the shuttle a little sleepy and dazed, knowing we had roughly nine hours to go and, yet, not fully knowing the environment we were entering. With each step, I felt the building energy from the people alongside me. We were in a constant shifting line, progressing towards the farm. I could smell the grass, the beaten down grass from 100,000 fans feet putting pounds of pressure into the soil. Security was suddenly within reach. They thumbed through my 80’s style hunter green fanny pack with gloved fingers as I walked through the metal detector. The security guard waved me through. I WAS CLEAR. I looked through the crowd to find my friend and we made our journey into the heart of Bonnaroo to the main stage, the What Stage. Marren Morris began to play and we couldn’t help but look around to take in this new scenery. Pasties, glitter, and fishnets were decoratively plastered against the plastered patrons themselves. We began to venture away from the stage and fully explore the Manchester Farm, which was surprisingly large. Vendor tents, stages, and human bodies filled the space. All here for one purpose. Music. To fully take in the sounds of artists we’d all admired from afar, and, in my case, for a decade. The Lonely Island was the sole reason I bought a ticket to Bonnaroo. Most people camped and stood in line for hours. Not me. I bought a day pass for the most important day of the festival. Our countdown began at the Bacardi beach, an area set up with boats, misting palm trees, tiki huts, and of course a Bacardi bar. We grabbed a couple watermelon drinks and headed for a DJ set. Walking around, brushing up sand with my Doc Martens truly felt like I had officially broken into the festival life. The sand coated them, transforming my boots from black to a dusty grey. I brushed my heels through the sand until I landed on grass again, where I danced alongside people moving in the same motion. A man who resembled Jesus danced a few people away from me, moving his body as though he didn’t know how each limb was connected together. It was as though self awareness didn’t exist for him. I somewhat admired that, while taking it in with a grain of salt, or rather his tab of acid. After we let the beat rule over us for a while, we went back to the beach, which became my favorite hangout of the day. It put off a widely chill vibe, one that could relax anyone. We eventually ventured over to the stage where The Lonely Island would be playing later that night. We checked the lines for the pit, making sure one had not formed yet for them. Feeling relief, we turned to go towards the Ferris Wheel. We scanned our entry bracelets like we were part of a futuristic community, one you’re never allowed to leave until they tell you to. We stepped into a purple bubble and were slowly shifting up and around. It moved gradually, letting the breeze roll in while shifting our perspective of the stages. We could see the entirety of the crowd at the Which Stage, the very stage The Lonely Island would be playing at. It expanded out past the barriers and into the field beyond it. I was officially nervous. Fear crept in. How close I could actually get to my all time favorite celebrity, Andy Samberg? After exiting the creaking metal childlike amusement park ride, we made our way back near the beach to watch yet another DJ. Her music was dark, the bass powerful. Yet, her voice contrasted so highly with her music, it jaded the set. She sounded like Minnie Mouse each time she shouted something into the mic. Her energy was fire, flinging her arms with the beat. It made it easy to get lost in it, but only until she spoke again, almost waking me up from the flow of my body, instinctively moving to the preconceived beat. We left the booming bass to go watch another performer, Kacey Musgraves. Normally, I would’ve loved to have sat down and relaxed to her mellow folksy tunes, but at this point in time, my heart was still racing as each hour counted down to the  looming 12:30am performance. I tried to relax as I swayed my hips to her songs. In efforts to distract us further, we ventured our way to the part of the farm where vendors were selling everything from artist merch, to jewelry, to environmental awareness. Moving around, constantly looking at what was directly available to us, helped the time pass. Standing and watching other artists, only made my blood pressure soar at the thought of being intensely hyped for the Lonely Island. During our exploration, we were whisked into a black photo booth where several trippy lights were set up for different photo ops. We took part in several of the displays and exited, realizing it was almost time for Odesza. We made our way to the main stage, walking into a large crowd of people, all insanely excited for the DJ duo. I forced myself to get lost, to zen out and just hear the heartbeat of the performance. As soon as I would get lost, I could feel the nerves crawling up my back, my practically bare back that could feel every emotion my inner self was feeling. I kept getting the urge to run and get in line, but the good friend inside of me forced my feet to stay in support. It was in that moment she turned to me and said, “Ok, let’s go get in line.” I can’t tell you how joyous those words sounded to me in that moment. I kept asking if she was sure and she reassured me over and over again. My heart was racing. We weaved our way through the ever-growing crowd. I could see the stage in the near distance where a different band was playing. I searched the crowd for a security guard. My eyes found him, his bright yellow shirt in the sea of skin. I approached him. We talked for a few minutes before he revealed a line had already formed for the Lonely Island. I half sprinted to the end of it midway back through the field. My heart sunk a little as we laid down bandanas to sit on and made ourselves comfortable. The people around us were definitely on our level. The love for Andy Samberg was insane. One guy in particular, Kyle, mentioned how he wanted Andy to look him dead in the eyes. I asked him how that was going to be possible with how far back we were in the line. “Oh, don’t worry. We will most definitely be in the pit.” He said heightening my excitement. My hunger grew, I could feel the crazy boiling hotter in my blood at the thought of getting close. The time was 9:00 pm. We had three and a half hours to go before Andy, Jorm, and Akiva would grace the stage. I stood, I sat, then stood again, then sat again. The line shifted. I screamed, jumping up to not miss the wave of people merging. It shifted again. I let out a softer yell this time, the repetition growing old. The people surrounding us became our lifeline. We bonded, supporting each other’s obsession. We were a solid Lonely Island gang, not afraid to stand up for another member if someone questioned our position in line. I found peace knowing I wasn’t the only one who had high expectations of the night. We sat through another band. We all shared an impatient vibe while trying to get into their mellow beat. Then, the stage was empty, but the air was filled with Post Malone’s voice, the remnants floating over from the main stage. Finally, it was 12:00 midnight. Suddenly, all I could see was everyone swiftly shift from sitting to standing as security yelled, “Hands up! No pushing!”We were being led to the pit one by one. All of us walked in line with our arms all the way extended up, not wanting to cause any reason for security to not let us in. The line took forever. I began to sweat in panic we wouldn’t make it in. I walked up to the front to find two security guards on either side of me. “Number 56” they said shoving me into the pit area. There was still space up front! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I weaved my way to the SECOND ROW. The anticipation all day was finally coming to a close as we waited the last few minutes before the show began. A bright screen flipped several images, revealing the next band to play… then, it went completely black and my lungs exhaled a scream I didn’t know was resting there, threatening my throat. “We’re behind the stage” the trio’s voices sang booming out across the field. I kept screaming and screaming, until finally they sang “We’re on stage! The Lonely Island is onthisstage!” Andy Samberg was in the flesh in front of me. Not just in front of me, but so close it felt like I practically met him. My heart was fluttering so fast, I felt like I was going to explode. His swag was so on point. He was so smooth with each transition, allowing every melody to move him across the stage. Each song filled me with more and more excitement as I screamed the lyrics so loud I felt like if they couldn’t hear them, everyone else in the crowd could. I could feel my throat scratching, but I didn’t care. These were my favorite people and I was not about to stay silent. I sang along to each and every song from, “Jizz in my Pants”, to “Uniform On”, to “Lazy Sunday” with Chris Parnell, to the finale of “I’m on a Boat” where a person actually crowd surfed in a blow up boat to the front of the stage. My heart was so full, I just couldn’t believe THE Lonely Island, THE Andy Samberg, had been directly in front of me, so close I could see their sweat dripping off their faces. So close, I felt like I had just shared a magical, once in a lifetime moment with each one of them - making eye contact, sharing energy, and making lasting memories, one with a view of the crowd, and mine with a view of three hysterically talented artists.