It has been an eventful few days, but only eventful in my mind. Not a real adventure, but it still feels like it. I had a stress dream type of day getting into the Secret Dreams music festival, an event I had decided to do since I was going to be in the state when it happened. The directions took me to the wrong entrance, staff sent me the wrong way, signs were nonexistent, and when I got to the right entrance it was a two hour wait snaking through a field of cars to the gate. Describing the issue that I had to leave to go to my friend’s show in Cleveland that night, I was directed to pull off and wait for further instructions. Each step I describe entails 15-30 minutes of waiting. I’m instructed to park in Day Parking, so I attempt to drive to the turn but get hopelessly stuck in the soggy grass. More waiting. In the meanwhile I do my internet research and find the “screw eye” that goes in the front of the van so it can be towed. Cell service is on for 30 seconds, off for five minutes. I try to ask some guys with muscle pickups for help. One has a chain and tries but no luck. Eventually staff informs me no help is coming; they’re all tied up with more important things, and here’s the number of a towing company. I have AAA, so I try to call, but of course no service. I set up Starlink and am just about to call when (I find out later) the owner of the park comes in his power jeep. Steve tries with his tow cable which promptly snaps. Mud is flying from spinning tires. He tries again with a small chain but can’t get the traction. Each time he holds up a finger; I’m not done! Comes back with a big-ass chain, goes onto the hard-pack road and pulls me out. Olé! Describing my situation, he says authoritatively, “Follow me”. We drive through the entire site, him waving me past multiple security spots, behind the main stage, as I’m taking in the festival attire of the guests while responsibly keeping my eyes on the road. Let’s just say ‘scantily clad’ is the vibe. He eventually takes me out of the park and gives me a spot on his front yard, which is when I learn he owns the place. He also said his wife was at the ticket booth and had told him, “There's a really nice guy up here who's been stuck in the mud and is being really patient. Can you help?” He gives me a ride in his jeep to the Main Stage and sends me on my way. Thanks Steve!
I settled in to the whump whump of the bass, the dragonfly shade cloths, the wet grass and festival goers all having a chill time. All told it was 5 hours from entrance to enjoying dubstep, psytrance, or whatever the hell genre it was.
I left with plenty of time to drive to Cleveland, and arrived with enough time to have a mediocre German dinner but a good German beer at the Hermit Club, where Debi was doing her show. She did a marvelous performance, mixing in her journey in theater and music with the songs that inspired her along the way. I slept in the van in her driveway, had a nice breakfast and we said our goodbyes, and I was back on the road.
More rain. It poured the whole way back to the festival, and I pulled into a rest stop right before my exit to think. Hmmm… I got stuck in soggy grass on a hot, dry day. There’s no way I can drive on the dirt roads and camp in the grass with all this rain. Where can I park offsite and take an Uber? Do I even want to be at a music festival in the mud? Yes, I’m committed. I can leave the van here! An Uber was $15 to the entrance. I changed into wet-ready clothes, put my contacts in so I could see in the rain, switched to river shoes, and Uber-ed to the site. Once there, I realized my efforts at resourcefulness were misguided. The rain had stopped, the roads weren’t all that bad, and I realized I’d be worrying about the van all night. I took another Uber back, drove back to the site, waited 30 minutes to be ushered to my spot, had to advocate for myself for a spot with the highest likelihood of extraction, and FINALLY went to enjoy the festival.
As much as I wanted to stop being an observer and be a participant, I couldn’t find the mood. I joined a conga line. I went into the dancing throng and tried to enjoy myself. But not drinking or smoking, being by myself, also being about three decades older than just about everyone, it wasn’t happening. I felt creepy as my eyes kept landing on women’s butts. So I wandered. I let myself just take in this amazing scene.
The main act in the evening was Pretty Lights. I expected a band, but once again it was one person, moving knobs, making this absolutely massive sound. The light show was spectacular, too. I thought, what power! I couldn’t help but think of the Wizard of Oz.
I gave up at 9:30 and went to my van to read Blue Highways. I successfully fell asleep, but my dream incorporated the thumping bass as a disturbing sound in my boiler, which was about to explode.
It’s a beautiful, sunny morning and I have one more full day at the festival. Tomorrow I drive to Kentucky where I’ll see my high school friend Ned.