Things you need to know about Bonnaroo that no one tells you about Bonnaroo

Now that I've had time to very nearly fully recover from Bonnaroo last week, I figure it's time for me to write about my experience. I could sit here and tell you all about the awesome performances I saw, which is essentially why anyone goes to this shindig; but, I've decided a more apt use of my blog would be to tell you, the reading public o' mine, about the underbelly of this most illustrious of summer festivals. To borrow a phrase: the follow is "the rest of the story..."



Unless you are the first 100 people to arrive, you will be forced to camp at least a mile, and sometimes more, from the main venue, Centeroo.  
We read on the Bonnaroo website that we should expect humongous, Black-Friday-esque lines on every road leading to the Bonnaroo farm. "Fill up your car with gas," it told us. "Make sure you pee before you get in line," it said.

However, when we arrived on Thursday afternoon, the first day of the festival, there was not a single car in front of us. We drove right to the gate, had our car "inspected," got our wristbands put on, and drove right on in. This was fine by us, really - who really wants to wait in a line of immovable traffic for hours?

But, when we were directed to our campsite, it became overwhelmingly apparent to us that the people running this show truly are all hippies who volunteered to work the festival so they didn't have to pay for a wristband. I knew people did this, and hey: more power to them. But, I was certain there would at least be a handful of some sort of staff present to tell these yahoos what to do. I was disappointed to find that this was not the case. Instead, incompetence ruled, and we were directed to the furtherest point of the furthest field of the entire Bonnaroo farm to camp: Camp Clark Griswald.

"How far is that?" you ask. Well, for reference sake: the Bonnaroo farm is hundreds of acres big, which is a lot of land area. Centeroo, where all the music happens, was at least a 45 minute walk from our camp - one way. Our bathrooms were at least a mile from our campsite. The closest water station, where we could refill our water bottles, was at least a mile away.

I suppose I could have lived with all that and accepted it had Camp Clark Griswald been completely full. But it was not. Not even close. We were one of about 20 other campsites in this entire humongous field. Why we could not have camped at the very front of the field, I will probably never understand.


The "bathrooms" are really porta potties.
Nasty, disgusting, deplorable porta potties. Little plastic, blue boxes of hell on earth.

Though, the Bonnaroo folks tell you that these are cleaned out regularly, and though you will see the sewage trucks from time to time, they will never, ever be clean. They will always reek of that blue, chemical water that fills their bowels. They will always be mud/dirt-covered. The seat will always have pee on them. Toilet paper will be strewn about the floor, if there's any in them, that is. You will always have to wait in line to use them while inside Centeroo, and you will always have to pee like a racehorse while waiting in line. There will never be hand sanitizer in them, even though the dispensers for this magical sanitized liquid will be glued to the walls.

You will get used to all of that. You will learn how to hover over the pee-covered seat while keeping your shorts from touching the wet and dirty floor. You will learn to always take your own toilet paper and hand sanitizer with you. You will stop by your campsite bathroom on your way in and out of camp. The smell of the sterile blue potty juice will become less toxic to your senses. Peeing in these hell-holes will become normal to you, because it has to. You have no other choice.

When you leave Bonnaroo, and you make your first pit-stop on the way home, the bathroom - even if it's a nasty little gas station bathroom in the middle-of-nowhere-Tennessee - will feel like the bathroom of a British royal. You will sit on a pee-free seat and you will wash your hands - actually wash your hand with soap and water - four times. You will be grateful. And you will vow to never again in the rest of your days on earth to set foot in a porta potty.


There is dust everywhere, unless it rains. Then, there will be mud everywhere. 
This is not an exaggeration. The ground is so dry, there's nothing else for it to do except turn to dust. It will billow in clouds at your feet and behind the Festi-Cabs. You will inhale it. It becomes what you know to be an ear, nose, throat and eye doctor's worst nightmare. It will create dust-tans on your exposed skin. It will shade everything a soft tan color. And it will crust over the sweat of your body, making the level of gross you've already achieved from sweating from every part of your body for two days with no shower, that much more amplified.

You will see people walking around with bandanas over their noses and mouths and you will think, "I should do that." But you likely won't for whatever reason. It's too much trouble. I'll look dumb. It's one more thing I have to carry on my epic odyssey across this farm into Centeroo.

You will find this dust in your ears after you've gotten home and take your first hot shower in four days.


Everything costs money. 
And when I say everything, I literally mean everything. From the time you cross through the entrance toll booths, from the time you leave, you will be paying at least $5 for everything. Showers cost $7, if you use the Garnier Fructis sponsored Bonnaroo ones. They are $10 at the non-Bonnaroo-approved vendors that line the main road and are just outside festival grounds.

In Centeroo, food, on average, costs about $4 to $7 dollars. Beer (Coors and Miller Lite - just about the only two kinds sold) costs $7. Rides from your camp to Centeroo cost $5 a person. A Bonnaroo t-shirt costs, on average, $35. And you can't pay for anything with a card, except for buying Bonnaroo merchandise. There are ATMs set up all over the place, and there's a $4 fee to withdraw money. I know this is no accident. The vendors don't allow you to use cards so you have to use the ATMs. The banks know you are reliant on the ATMs, so they charge you $4 to use them.

All this is to say that: BONNAROO IS A FREAKING MONEY PIT.


Showers
Courtney and I used the Garnier Fructis showers one morning when the gunk became too much to bear (It was our second morning at the festival). Not only did we have to walk a mile to get to them - literally one mile - but once we got there and paid our fee, we walked into a shipping container-turned-dorm-shower. There were about 7 showers in here, with "curtains" that really didn't keep the water from spewing all over everything once you turned them on. While my shower was freezing cold and I shivered my way through it, Courtney said hers was warm, so I'm assuming I just got a defective shower.

There is no private space in which to change clothes/dry off/not be naked, so there are naked women everywhere. Normally, this would not be an issue for me; but, seeing as how I was already irate about having to pay $7 for a cold shower that's sponsored by a multi-billion-dollar company and thusly should be as hot as the sun if I want it to be, I just wanted to get out of the storage container.

All of the dry things you've brought with you will get wet. Everything. Your clean clothes, your towel, even the bag you brought to carry it all. This won't be so much of a problem once you step outside into the blistering heat and unrelenting sunshine of the day, something else you won't really have a problem with once you're finally clean.


All of those things are the major downsides to this festival, and are things I did not know about it until I arrived. However, with all that being said, I am not ashamed to admit that I would willingly and happily go back to Bonnaroo.

Over the course of four days, I witnessed 13 of the best performances by artists I love, and some I'd never heard of before. I don't know what it is about an outdoor music festival that makes artists really, truly perform their hearts out, but there is something to it, because I saw it happen. Maybe it's the fact that they know everyone in the audience is there to hear music. Maybe they feel more freedom to do whatever the hell they want while on stage (like Phish singing "The Gambler" with Kenny Rogers, and chatting it up with the audience). Maybe they've been drinking or taking part in what The Civil War's female vocalist called, "Bonnaroo's organic herb." Whatever it is, they become a part of it and they completely and utterly rock out, jam down and put on an awesomely incredible show.

To witness those performances and be a part of those musical experiences with some of my closest friends, I would hands down, without a doubt go to Bonnaroo again, especially now that I know what to expect and how to get around all of that.

Oh, and next time: I'll rent an RV.