The V.I.P. experience was designed to help those who ponied up the price of their firstborn male child to keep from having to mingle, to walk too far, to struggle for personal space and dignity, to remain fed or to remain clean; as a 'bonus' it enabled us to avoid encounters with the 'great unwashed masses' (that dreaded category which eventually included mony, who naturally veers to her mean behavior) at least in theory. I know it allowed us to choose encounters carefully. I'd be lying if I tried to tell you I wasn't informed and complicit in this plan when I purchased the ticket. In fact there was never any doubt in my mind that my enjoyment of the festival would hinge on that decision. That being said, I still was amazed at how smoothly we were segregated and always shocked whenever I was met with the reality of the numbers of people outside the friendly confines. Therefore, for 2009 I will remain a dedicated V.I.P. at least in my mind...
Friendly confines they were. Upon minutes of our being gently led into a verdant grassy hilltop (yep, serendipity timed our arrival to get the primo camping spot a hundred yards away from the V.I.P. entrance to the What Stage, or main stage) we met our campmates the Beautiful Karen and her congenial but rather shy husband-- who shall forever go unnamed unless my readership provides me a memory jog. They had landed adjacent to a pile of hay and invited us to pull up to it in any fashion we desired as they had been informed by the parking staff that we got a bonus lot.
Our lots measured an incredible 20'x30' to begin with so the addition of this bonus space was tantamount to having a giant backyard for community gathering. We commenced to doing just that immediately. No sooner than I had moved my car three different times, consulting my compass to arrange our bedding and tent opening so our heads met the optimum feng shui position of facing north, we had new neighbors, two handsome young men. In no time at all they had not only set up their complete camp, but as soon as I confessed I could not untangle the bungees with which we had secured our chairs to the top of the Jeep and that I had a tarp underneath the chairs, Shane was on top of the Jeep, had it all unpacked and had strung two sunshades between the cars and tents thus creating our new fortress against heat, sun, rain, and wind.
Wow. You should by now have an idea of the establishment of Camp Sick. The name came later, the day after Metallica.
But the real beauty was not the obvious physical attributes of the camp, but rather the dynamics of the way our personalities blended. Shane and Damon are from Savannah where they are professional waiters. Which means that Hospitality is their game; they are quite skilled at it. Shane, a self-proclaimed O.C.D. was up at sunrise, had breakfast ready for any comers and his smile was ready before anyone even smelled the coffee. Same for Damon. Within an hour of waking at sunrise they both re-emerged from their tent perfectly groomed with the coolest ensembles I saw all weekend (yep, even beating out body paintees who in reality weren't as cool as I expected).
Early rising was not a choice. By ten a.m. the sun was brutally hot and Jean and I established our daily routine of early exploration of the showers and toilets, followed by an extended siesta. Beatin' the heat and storing the energy to stay out all night. It worked for the most part. I will say that in the 100 hours I was on site at Bonnaroo each of us had about 12 hours of complete exhaustion where we retired to our camp and didn't come out to play. Mine occurred on the front end, as I enjoyed the Thursday night shows from the new camp. The siestas were fluid, often interrupted by a spurt of energy and exploration, sometimes shopping but still were a definite part of the daily routine. I really enjoyed the open-air nature of being in the tent side of the V.I.P. area away from the R.V. generator noises.
We found that being so close to the What Stage was very good for energy conservation in moving bodily to any of the seven stages, but not so good for getting to bed early. The speakers aimed directly for Camp Sick and as I hate earplugs, I heard a strange hazy mixture of all the music the first night from the comfort of my Princess and the Pea bedding. I heard Jean come in from The Drive By Truckers show (where she went to the front of the crowd near the stage -- she noted she paid for that the next day when she succumbed to her 12 hours of rest from the exertion) and our neighbors come in from their exploration. It was easy to fall into the routine of retiring for good at 3:30 a.m. in hopes of snatching a few cool and quiet hours until the sun rose.
Statistics:
Mony cold showers 3 hot showers 1
Jean was far more savvy about figuring out the shower thing.
Or maybe it was just personal preferences sorting themselves out.
Caveat: We got up to speed on a bit of twenty-something lingo. Camp Sick translates to Camp Awesome--
insert fist bump here.
Our lots measured an incredible 20'x30' to begin with so the addition of this bonus space was tantamount to having a giant backyard for community gathering. We commenced to doing just that immediately. No sooner than I had moved my car three different times, consulting my compass to arrange our bedding and tent opening so our heads met the optimum feng shui position of facing north, we had new neighbors, two handsome young men. In no time at all they had not only set up their complete camp, but as soon as I confessed I could not untangle the bungees with which we had secured our chairs to the top of the Jeep and that I had a tarp underneath the chairs, Shane was on top of the Jeep, had it all unpacked and had strung two sunshades between the cars and tents thus creating our new fortress against heat, sun, rain, and wind.
Wow. You should by now have an idea of the establishment of Camp Sick. The name came later, the day after Metallica.
But the real beauty was not the obvious physical attributes of the camp, but rather the dynamics of the way our personalities blended. Shane and Damon are from Savannah where they are professional waiters. Which means that Hospitality is their game; they are quite skilled at it. Shane, a self-proclaimed O.C.D. was up at sunrise, had breakfast ready for any comers and his smile was ready before anyone even smelled the coffee. Same for Damon. Within an hour of waking at sunrise they both re-emerged from their tent perfectly groomed with the coolest ensembles I saw all weekend (yep, even beating out body paintees who in reality weren't as cool as I expected).
Early rising was not a choice. By ten a.m. the sun was brutally hot and Jean and I established our daily routine of early exploration of the showers and toilets, followed by an extended siesta. Beatin' the heat and storing the energy to stay out all night. It worked for the most part. I will say that in the 100 hours I was on site at Bonnaroo each of us had about 12 hours of complete exhaustion where we retired to our camp and didn't come out to play. Mine occurred on the front end, as I enjoyed the Thursday night shows from the new camp. The siestas were fluid, often interrupted by a spurt of energy and exploration, sometimes shopping but still were a definite part of the daily routine. I really enjoyed the open-air nature of being in the tent side of the V.I.P. area away from the R.V. generator noises.
We found that being so close to the What Stage was very good for energy conservation in moving bodily to any of the seven stages, but not so good for getting to bed early. The speakers aimed directly for Camp Sick and as I hate earplugs, I heard a strange hazy mixture of all the music the first night from the comfort of my Princess and the Pea bedding. I heard Jean come in from The Drive By Truckers show (where she went to the front of the crowd near the stage -- she noted she paid for that the next day when she succumbed to her 12 hours of rest from the exertion) and our neighbors come in from their exploration. It was easy to fall into the routine of retiring for good at 3:30 a.m. in hopes of snatching a few cool and quiet hours until the sun rose.
Statistics:
Mony cold showers 3 hot showers 1
Jean was far more savvy about figuring out the shower thing.
Or maybe it was just personal preferences sorting themselves out.
Caveat: We got up to speed on a bit of twenty-something lingo. Camp Sick translates to Camp Awesome--insert fist bump here.
6 comments:
Really, it should be Wicked Sick
You're giving me an idea for '09. You coming?
it's called a dap - so i learned from stucat
what's called a dap--a Dap King?
the fist bump
great pix!
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