After our hard traveling ways we set up our very weak and very minimalist camp. It was early afternoon, blazing hot, and we were ready to get in the mix. We hit it pretty hard right out of the gate.
Probably hit it too hard. We bounced around getting a feel for the layout of the stages and caught Donovan Frankenreiter, Steel Pulse, Bright Eyes, and watched Mike Gordon & Ramble Dove so a pretty kick ass cover of Jackson. After about 5 hours of drinking and concert going in the Tennessee sun we decided to head back to camp to eat some dinner and have a few beers that weren't $5 a pop. This would prove a fateful decision and another rookie mistake. Oysterhead was just coming on as we walked back to our car.
We settled in back at camp to a few cold beers and some snacks. We forgot a knife which made our PB&J sandwiches a little more difficult make. Wild Bill got creative on it and used the inner seal of the peanut butter jar folded up to spread the condiments. We enjoyed our sandwiches and our miller lites while we sat in our crazy creeks and watched the sun go down. It was starting to get dark. We discussed going back in. Tom Petty was coming up and we knew we had My Morning Jacket coming late night. But those crazy creeks were soooo comfortable.
One more beer. We'll go in 20 minutes. Famous last words.
I awoke still in my tipped over chair. I tried to wake the young one there, but it was no use. We were both spent. As much as it pains me, knowing that we missed My Morning Jacket and all of Friday night really, we had nothing left. The lack of sleep Thursday and hard partying ways Friday took it all out of us. I retreated to the tent. I did hear a distant "One Big Holiday" from the distance that night, but there was no moving for either of us that night. We missed an epic night, but learned an important Bonnaroo lesson; it's a marathon not a sprint. We'd live to see better days.