University Star

With the exception of four days out of the year, Manchester, Tenn. is what you would call your average Small Town, U.S.A.

But every June for the past 11 years, a form of renaissance takes place on this 700 acre farm nested in the Tennessee hills. 

A type of hipster extra-terrestrials come out of hiding from every crevice of the Americas for this weekend long concert. So they too can partake in a world where the weird wins.

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The crowd of sleep deprived, grumpy journalists around me were starting to get antsy as we all waited at the Coffee County Conference Center for press credentials early Thursday morning, June 7. 

Most of us had been camped out like refugees in front of the building for a few hours now. And we could all agree that so far the morning had all been a hurry up and wait crisis. 

But, semi-patiently we waited in line, one by one, and were decorated with our media passes. 

But there sat my next problem at hand. I had decided to let my friends just drop me off at the credential pick-up while they found a good camping spot. In layman's terms, I was stranded. 

Luckily enough a fellow press enthusiast from the Big Apple was nice enough to help me hitchhike a few miles down the road to the festival. 

The long mecca-like trip was finally over. 

For a matter of maybe half an hour we waited in line to be directed to our campsites. Then, as the renown insanity of Hunter S. Thompson once said, "They pushed up through the gates and turned us loose."

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As if I had never left, Bonnaroo sat scattered with a collage of people and personalities steaming with anticipation for what was to come. 

Those of us that had been welcomed into this parallel, music-adorned universe were familiar with the tricks 'Roo liked to play. The names of where the more popular artists performed being one of them: This Tent, That Tent, The Other Tent, Which Stage and What Stage are just  a few examples. 

By mid-afternoon the festival's pulse could be heard as music began from outside in the camping grounds. 

Early sets by The Dirty Guv'nahs, The Lonely Forest, The Cave Singers and Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. welcomed us home as we stepped inside the fenced-off paradise that was already being decorated in graffiti by some of the more artistically talented.

YelaWolf, Moon Taxi, Phantogram and Soja shifted their jam sessions into high gear as they helped bring in the first night of this mirage Bonnaroovians call home once each summer. 

Around 11:30 that night the festival took it's first full breath as the final sets by Alabama Shakes, Big Gigantic and Mimosa began. 

What has always stood out to myself when it comes to this particular event is what happens after midnight. This type of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde effect takes over the crowd, or so it seems. 

Like wolves, the festies howled at the moon while Big Gigantic and Mimosa's light show painted the yet to be trampled grass. As if hell had frozen over, we danced into the first night. 

As for myself, I had decided to call it quits by around 3 that morning. Something about the idea of going on 48 hours without sleep poked at my ribs. 

So I made my way past all of the tents and to our RV. 

Yes, an RV. The past two years of attending Bonnaroo before this one proved we had made one major flaw; enduring the weather. Going to sleep at sunrise only to be woken up in a pool of sweat an hour and a half later isn't the best cup of coffee in the morning. 

To be continued....