As the Doobie Bros finished their encore set, I realized this festival was for the many persons suffering from maladies requiring the use of medical marijuana. Although it could be said the festival was also for those needing to intake as much alcohol under the intense sunshine as possible. Or, maybe the festival was for the profit of the promoter. Whatever the reason for it, the festival was a success and a rousing hoot as well.
A guy from Baltimore, Maryland, raved about the performances of Buddy Guy, Gregg Allman and the Doobie brothers. The two-time Senior International Cow Pie Toss champion from Vale, Oregon, loved Ruthie Foster, buying three of her CDs and an unrelated parrot shirt. James Intveld & Rosie Flores filled the passion bucket of snap brim hat guy from Santa Ana, California, who also wore more ink than the Sunday edition of the LA Times.
As the fog finally rolled in to hide the sun, an outbreak of hand dancing broke out among the beyond middle age set. This genre of dancing involves swaying slowly to the music with arms flailing and wrists jerking and hands wobbling. Sort of a hand jive with Tourette's syndrome.
After the concert back at the campground, a couple from Texas were standing next to their fire pit locked in a swaying embrace. He stood behind her with arms encircling her waist, her head resting on his chest. A half pint of Southern Comfort sat next to beer bottle on the picnic table. A bayonet-like device was stabbed into the table. As politely requested, they shut off their loud car radio and crawled into their little tent. A train passed by and then quiet hours began, except inside the tent.
No comments:
Post a Comment