Bonnaroo has become synonymous with the outrageously drug-fueled, sun-kissed party on a farm that it admittedly is. But it might as well be a synonym for unpredictable, too, and I found that out this year for a third time.
From the unsurprisingly blazing performances to the unseasonably chilly weather, Bonnaroo again proved this past weekend why it’s the most divisive music festival in America.
The experience is large-scale and grassroots all in one, making the 700-acre farm feel like New York City and the Ra Shop decided to smell like a Porta Potty and only wear ironic t-shirts for 96 hours.
There’s a cliche line just waiting to be said here: “Bonnaroo isn’t for everyone.”
For some - including one of my next-door camping neighbors - it clearly wasn’t. Four days of sleeping in humid tents, rubbing elbows with people somehow even greasier than you, fighting intoxication of all kinds and dropping $10 for a corn dog usually isn’t.
But the thrilling part about Bonnaroo is immersing yourself in the positivity that reigns throughout the grounds.
For “Parks and Recreation” fans out there, Bonnaroo is the Chris Traeger of music festivals.
It’s not a place for the cynicism that worrying and full-tilt responsibility can entail.
And while that sounds like the mind-set of a deluded hippie, the Bonnaroovians, as the patrons are called, actually make it possible.
Forget about your cell-phone charge, how much that enormous burrito costs or the hours of sleep you won’t get. You will be repaid with a camaraderie unique to the festival, one that reaches mass audiences but requires personal connection.
Strangers hug you - or offer you any number of drugs - men cry at shows and water bottles are shared as communal wealth.
There are also hot dogs and bratwursts wrapped in bacon with scallions and green peppers.
None of this even touches on the music, which is as diverse as the festivalgoers who cheer all of it with an exhaustingly zealous gusto.
Radiohead brought their own audiovisual set to the main stage and used trippy camera work, their grandiose stylings and woozy electronica to chilling effect.
It alienated some, left others feeling cold, but reached the gut of many, including myself.
And Thom Yorke and co. might have been the most universal band at the festival.
A Ludacris set bumps right up with a performance from indie siren St. Vincent.
Bluegrass virtuosos the Punch Brothers can take the stage mere minutes before comedian Donald Glover’s Childish Gambino hip-hop persona at the same stage and no one blinks.
Bon Iver can slot between the Beach Boys and Phish without disturbing the peace.
It’s only disorienting if you’re close-minded, musically and beyond.
One particular experience from my weekend encapsulates why Bonnaroo rewards, even when it takes you out of your comfort zone.
Since the festival is notorious for its warm temperatures, packing for cold weather is a waste of space. Except this year. It fell into the low 50s the first night, waking me up at 3:30 a.m. because a tent-mate had pilfered my sheets.
Shivering and desperate for warmth, I just started walking around, hoping to escape the aggravating frigidity.
Luckily, warmth took the form of R. Kelly. In a stroke of impromptu genius, the festival screened his entire “Trapped in the Closet” saga in the Cinema Tent during the wee hours. Stumbling in and watching exhausted stoners react to every plot twist and turn in the goofy soap opera - with welcome interludes of Kelly’s “normal” music videos – felt like living in a surreal film.
Surreality is Bonnaroo. Is it for you?
Chris Abshire is a 21-year-old mass communication senior from Baton Rouge. Follow him on Twitter @AbshireTDR.
 
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