Patch Blogs: Our First Trip to the Farm

Bonnaroo is a four-day multistage event in Manchester, TN, that has played host to a huge variety of bands including Phish, Dave Matthews, The Dead, Pearl Jam, Tom Petty, NIN, Stevie Wonder and many more. (This year it runs June 9-12.)

Incredible events in music happen at Bonnaroo — NIN’s last U.S. performance, Springsteen and Phish playing together for an encore, watching bands like Kings of Leon, Black Keys, and Mumford & Sons go from obscure artists on small stages to huge multi-platinum main-stage performers.

But this is not what makes Bonnaroo such a unique and special event.

“Bonnaroo is not something you see or do; for a weekend you become Bonnaroo.” I often take this quote as my own but it actually originated with a fellow “Rooer” I met at a rest stop on my way home from my first trip to "the farm." Bonnaroo has found a place in my heart, not simply because the music is diverse, loud and meaningful, but because the people are diverse, loud and meaningful.

My first real taste of what Bonnaroo is came when my friend Jon and I were sitting in traffic outside of Louisville, KY. We were blasting music, windows down, inching our way to Tennessee. “Hey are you guys going to Bonnaroo?” We look over and see two girls from Pennsylvania, tie-die shirts, over-sized sunglasses and flowers in their hair.  Of course we answered yes, enthusiastically, and proceeded to have a two-minute conversation of who they wanted to see, had they been before, etc. Eventually, as it always does, traffic freed up and we were back to being alone with our conversation. From that point on, however, we saw car after car full of camping equipment, anticipation, great tunes and good vibes. The highways and byways surrounding Manchester became an intersecting web of camaraderie all leading to one unified point. 

The feel of togetherness did not end when we arrived to our campsite. The moment we put the car in park, Jon and I sprang out and began to put up our tent and devise the best way to arrange our camping equipment. On our left were a group of girls from New York City, fashion editors for a magazine I had never heard of, a group of college students catty-corner to us, and an old-school hippie from Boston named Robert who came by himself.

After a ferocious rain storm that kept everyone huddled in their tents, we all emerged into the Tennessee sun like newborn bear cubs curious to see the world around us and interact with it after a long winter. Our group spent the mornings in a homemade sun shelter that we had knighted the “Hootie and the Blowfish Memorial Sunshade Tent.”  (I realize the name does not roll off the tongue.) Our ragtag group could not have been any more different, but we were a community. We talked about everything and nothing, going over those conversations that are somehow deeply meaningful yet never range past the surface of, well, the surface.  We shared shelter, food, drink, music, and for four days we were a family in all the ways besides DNA that makes someone a member of a family.

Like any family, eventually the members have to step out of the house and venture into the world on their own. For the Rooer this means Centeroo. If the acres and acres of camping at Bonnaroo are akin to the world, Centeroo would be Mecca — the epicenter of why we are there. In Centeroo festival-goers find music, art, food, activities and enough people watching to last a lifetime. With every step in Centeroo you find a new interesting thing to look at, listen to or try. I met people from Boston, Dallas, L.A., Seattle, Knoxville, London, and everyone I met was eager to talk, listen and share what they had.

There is obviously security at Bonnaroo, but I have never seen a fight or an incident where security was needed, but I have seen people lost, passed out or in need of water that were instantly helped out by strangers. In a world full of apathy, Bonnaroo is a collective group of Samaritans, and it’s why I fell in love.