Here I am once again, typing away in a musty press trailer and basking in the air-conditioning at Bonnaroo here in Machester, Tenn. While I laugh at my peasant friends who are currently sweltering in our cheap tents drinking equally cheap beer at 10 a.m., the joke's on me. I'm working. [Text by Andrew, most photos by Mike.]
Why? Who knows? Three years ago, in my lowly intern status here at Creative Loafing, I asked to cover this thing and, through the power of the PR machine, was granted a photo and media pass. I was, to put it lightly, a pig in shit. When the time came, I obsessively documented the festival via pictures and thousands of words of daily recaps and insights with my cohort-now-food-editor, Arielle Stevenson.
Through some masochistic sense of consistency and a strange fondness for this pleasurably depraved festival, I did the same thing again last year. And now, I've returned for a third round.
I'll break Bonnaroo down day by day with set recaps, mundane observations, and whatever else pours into this unwashed head of mine. Check it out after the jump.
