The Cookblog by Brian Cook

Bonnaroo 2009 Recap

I am now a Bonnaroo alumnus. My first music festival was a rip-roaring success, fueled by the sights, sounds and smells that can only mingle in a farm field full of hippies, hipsters, frat brothers and music fans of all stripes.

My list of acts I wanted to see was, in retrospect, naively ambitious. Stretched out supine on my floor with Dinky perched on my back, I envisioned myself skipping merrily from tent to tent, Pabst in hand and music in ears. As it happened, standing for hours on end hurt my back about as much as a 20lb cat sitting on it. But I say this: it was well worth it.

A short day at work was required before heading down to Cheshire, CT to meet up with Bruce, Ali and Johnny, my companions for the trip. We loaded up Bruce’s Chevy Tahoe and hit the road around 4 PM on Wednesday, June 10. Lots of driving, fast food and shallow napping later, we pulled in to the RV rental place in Lebanon, TN around 9:30 AM on Thursday. Two hours and a driving rainstorm later, we were finally hooked up to our R-Pod, which we took to Walmart for a few last minute provisions (beer, galoshes).

An hour and a half later and we were finally in Manchester, TN and found the entrance to the Bonnaroo grounds without too much difficulty. Unbelievably, the line was short and it only took about 45 minutes to navigate ourselves to our spot in Camp Marsellus Wallace. We set ourselves up, organized our provisions and cracked open a beer. We’d finally arrived.

There were a few shows that Thursday, and Johnny went with me to White Rabbits, who played a decent set at This Stage. The power went out during their best song, “While We Go Dancing”, but they managed to finish it, much to the delight of the crowd. After some wandering around and dinner, we decided to take a nap at 10 PM before Passion Pit at 11:30 PM. Needless to say, we didn’t get up until the next morning, so Ali and Bruce went by themselves. This was one of the few disappointments of the trip.

Friday, I awoke much refreshed. I managed to read a bit and take a few pictures before Johnny and I went to see Gomez at Which Stage shortly after noon. Next up was a fantastic show by the Dirty Projectors and a few tasty microbrews at the Brooer’s Fest, also known as “the beer tent.” I saw a terrific set by Grizzly Bear by myself, featuring a transcendent version of “Knife”, then headed back to camp for some tasty steak prepared by Ali. We all hung out and worked ourselves up for the night’s shows, with the Beastie Boys, David Byrne, Phish and Phoenix on the schedule. The highlight of the Beastie Boys show was a green Kevlar balloon that captured the imagination of the huge crowd. As the rogue balloon rose higher and higher, it was more than a little amusing to see everyone crane their necks to catch a glimpse, completely ignoring the less interesting spectacle on the stage.

Next we hit up the David Byrne show, which was great. While men and women in pink tutus ran to and fro across the stage, the crowd joyfully danced to “Burning Down the House” in the warm night air. We went back to the main stage for Phish, picking an open spot in the grass and planting ourselves for a while. I stayed through the first song, then hoofed it over to the That Stage for Phoenix. Since none of my fellow Bonnarooers were interested, I danced along with thousands of strangers to the irresistible French rock outfit that hit the highlights from their stunning recent album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix and previous It’s Never Been Like That. After a terrific show, it was back over to the What Stage for the rest of Phish, where standout numbers included “You Enjoy Myself”. The night was young, so Johnny and I took in a solid Crystal Castles show, after which Ali joined us for Girl Talk at 2:15 AM. Though “not a DJ,” the show was an extended collection of samples from all sorts of musical genres mashed together in novel and mostly melodic ways. The crowd was really into it, with glowsticks flying, couples fornicating in the middle of the throng and Girl Talk (Gregg Gillis) repeatedly having to plug the cord to his computer back in, as the dancing coeds on stage kept tripping over it and pulling it out.

By 4:30 the show was over, and we toyed with the idea of hitting up the Silent Disco (where everyone dances in silence to music piped through headphones given out upon entry). However, the line was huge and we decided to head back to the RV. Cracking open a beer and watching the sunrise marked the end of the best day of Bonnaroo 2009.

On Saturday, I awoke around 10:30 AM and did a bit of reading before the day’s festivities kicked off. I made my way over to This Tent for Elvis Perkins shortly after noon and got a good spot for a fantastic show. A combination of slow folk ballads and delightful folk jams made this show my joint favorite with the Phoenix show of the night before. The afternoon was spent mostly wandering around, relaxing and snacking. In the evening, I caught the end of Wilco and the Decemberists, then headed over to the main stage for Danielle’s favorite musician, Bruce Springsteen.

I wish I could say I loved it, but I’m still not really a fan. Mitigating circumstances include me being about half a mile from the stage, “Bruce” coming on 30 minutes late, and being tired from a few full days. I’m willing to give him another shot, but this show didn’t do it for me. I headed back to camp before venturing out later for a semi-interesting circus performance and a pointless Nine Inch Nails show. I lasted two songs and made my way back to the RV to go to bed, to exhausted to even stay up for MGMT.

Refreshed and ready to go on Sunday, I saw an excellent AA Bondy show at The Other Tent and got some lunch back at the RV. Ali went to see an abbreviated performance from Elvis Perkins and Dearland at the more intimate Sonic Stage, where members of the band came down into the crowd for the trombonealicious start of “Doomsday”. I returned the favor by going with her to see Erykah Badu, but only managed to catch one song due to her coming out 45 minutes late. Striking off by myself again, I stood through most of Andrew Bird’s show, which I thought I’d enjoy more. By this point, a deep-rooted fatigue had set in, and I wandered back over to the Sonic Stage, where I saw AA Bondy perform for the second time that day. Lying on the ground looking up at the sky, I closed my eyes and enjoyed some peaceful Americana and a brief escape from the crowds.

With no interest in seeing Phish again, that was the end of my concert-going at Bonnaroo. I helped Ali and Johnny pack up our stuff and we went to bed early to get a few winks before Bruce came back from the show. He came running shortly after midnight and we quickly harnessed up the RV and took off for Lebannon, beating the rush of traffic and parking at the Walmart down the road from the RV rental place. After a few more hours of sleep, we got up at 8 AM, returned our R-Pod, got some breakfast at Sonic and headed north. In between sleeping, chatting, eating and listening to music, we finally pulled in to Cheshire at 2:30 AM. Another hour or so in the car saw me home, snuggled up in bed after an exhausting but wonderful weekend.

Here’s how I’d rate the shows I saw, with an MP3 link to my favorite song that they played.

THURSDAY
White Rabbits :: B+ :: While We Go Dancing

FRIDAY
The Dirty Projectors :: A- :: Temecula Sunrise
Grizzly Bear :: A :: Knife
Beastie Boys :: C :: Sure Shot
David Byrne :: A- :: Burning Down the House
Phish :: B+ :: You Enjoy Myself
Phoenix :: A+ :: Listzomania
Crystal Castles :: B :: Courtship Dating
Girl Talk :: B+

SATURDAY
Elvis Perkins in Dearland :: A+ :: Doomsday
Rodrigo y Gabriela :: B-
Wilco :: B+ :: Hummingbird
The Decemberists :: B+ :: The Rake’s Song
Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band :: B :: Born to Run

SUNDAY
AA Bondy :: A- :: Vice Rag
Elvis Perkins :: A :: (Sonic Stage Show)
Erykah Badu :: B+ :: The Healer
Andrew Bird :: B+ :: Anonanimal
AA Bondy :: A- :: (Sonic Stage Show)

Thinking Back to the Boatyard

Recent conversations and memory vacations have had me thinking a lot about the month following my graduation from the University of Connecticut in May 2004. That month was spent with my brother, Aaron, living on our newly purchased 40-foot Valiant sailboat in a Fort Pierce, FL. That description is, of course, misleading. Instead of rocking gently in warm Floridian waters to the mellow tones of Jimmy Buffett, we were holed up fifteen feet above the ground in a boatyard, buffetted by the hot, dusty wind that whistled through frayed rigging and swept between neglected hulls.

Mornings and afternoons saw us engaged in labor-intensive boat repairs about which we were almost wholly ignorant. In between blindingly expensive trips to West Marine, we ground into the hull of our boat with a variety of power tools whose instructions we’d just read and slathered on noxious chemicals with paint brushes, trying to ignore the burning gel that dripped through the tears in our cheap latex gloves and into our microscopic fiberglass lacerations.

In the late afternoon, we quit work and passed zen-like in the mode of bums. We found a motel with an outdoor ice machine and filled our cooler. We gathered a $3 Walmart dinner of canned beans garnished with hot dogs. We bathed in the ocean surf and rinsed off under outdoor beach showers.

As night fell, we savored the taste of cold root beer trickling between our stolen ice cubes, listened to the radio, chatted, read, wrote and climbed down the ladder one more time to use the bathroom before bed.

Despite the comforts, mental work and comparatively vibrant social life I now enjoy, I grow occassionally wistful for a time when I strengthened my home with my hands every day, and slept under the stars each night.

Thanksgiving in Nebraska

I recently discovered that I’ve visited more foreign countries than U.S. states. And so it was with much interest that I accepted the invitation from my brother, Aaron, and his fiancée, Megan, to join them for Thanksgiving in Nebraska. While I considering geography an area of my expertise, I must confess I placed Nebraska far too south in my brain. It shares a border with South Dakota and Omaha is about as far north as Chicago. Now you know, too.

The trip started off with a ride to the airport from good pal, Marta. My flight to Chicago was smooth and I even had time to stop off for a pint before catching my connection to Omaha. Once there, I was met by Megan, who showed me all the sites of Omaha and took me to get some coffee while we waited for my brother’s flight to land in an hour. After all of that, we still had the better part of 45 minutes to kill, so we drove around, picked up a bag of sugar for Thanksgiving and stopped by the site of their impending wedding. Finally, Aaron arrived and they drove to Shelton, NE while I slept in the back of the car.

Thanksgiving was a fun day. I met Megan’s family, all of whom were delightful and accomodating. Aaron and I tossed around the football and chatted with the future in-laws before sitting down to an excellent feast of the usual suspects: turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn casserole, green bean casserole, squash and gravy. Megan Grammie took us out for a tour of Greater Shelton afterward, pointing out their family corn fields and the grave of a pioneer woman who was rumored to be poisoned by Indians. Good stuff.

The evening was spent playing parlor games, including Werewolf. After several false starts, everyone got the hang of it and reveled in the lying, backstabbing and indignance that make it such a great family game.

Friday was spent attending the Nebraska v Colorado football game in Lincoln, which apparently becomes the 3rd largest city in the state during game days. For sure, Nebraskans love their college football team, particularly their defense, which they’ve dubbed “The Blackshirts”. The carnival atmosphere was shattered when Colorado scored a touchdown on their second play 54 seconds into the game. They added another two plays later to make it 14-0, before Nebraska decided not to disappoint the 85,000 rabid fans. Back and forth the game went, until Nebraska’s kicked hit a 57-yard field goal with about a minute left and won the game. It was a great day out and a real slice of Americana.

Saturday allowed us the opportunity to check out the inside of a Nebraskan movie theater, which was virtually indistinguishable from those in Connecticut. Megan, Aaron and I took in the latest James Bond flick, which I’d give a solid B+. Aaron reinforced his credentials as the family curmudgeon with a less-than-glowing review, but I enjoyed it. We stopped at a Nebraska souvernir store and then at Cabela’s, where our fancy city dress made us more of a spectacle than the stuffed antelope, industrial meat grinders and camo pajamas for sale.

One of the highlights of the trip was Saturday night at the Sportsman, a serious meat-eating establishment in Gibbon, Nebraska that compares favorably to the legendary Silver Swan in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. For until $10, patrons can get a “Man’s Cut” of delicious prime rib, a trip to the salad bar and a complimentary mini-bottle of White Zinfandel. I’m proud to say that I downed the Man’s Cut in one sitting, and didn’t have to eat again for at least another 24 hours.

Sunday was meant to be a traveling day, first driving from Shelton to Omaha, then flying home. Everything went to plan early on, as we made it back to Omaha with time to grab a burger at a local brewery and some freshly made ice cream before heading to the airport. I checked in, bade farewell to Aaron and Megan, and made my way to the terminal. That’s when the fun started.

Because of the East Coast weather, my 4:10 PM flight to Newark, NJ was delayed 2 hours. Then two more hours. Finally, we left a little after 9 PM, landing around 1 AM. There were quite a few people still milling around, having missed their connections and had their outbound flights delayed. With the Continental customer service line about 200 people long, I washed up a bit, got some water, stood in line for a bit and then decided to lie down for some sleep and get my boarding pass for Hartford in a few hours. I found an unoccupied spot in the terminal, fluffed my hoodie into a pillow and lay down for a nap at about 3 AM.

At 3:45 AM, a woman went around waking everyone up, telling them they had to leave the terminal and re-enter. This was apparently due to “security regulations.” Since I was awake and the new Continental line was relatively short, I figured I might as well sort out my boarding pass. An hour later, it was taken care of, and I wandered over to the proper terminal, stopping in a coffee shop for a mocha and finding my gate a couple of hours before my 8:30 AM flight.

I finally landed in Hartford at 9:30 AM on 45 minutes of sleep. I was 90% sure my bag wouldn’t make it, and debated whether I should even check the luggage belt or just go straight to the customer service office. Miraculously, it was there and I sensed things were finally going my way. My colleague, Ali, had agreed to pick me up and I went straight to work. After a full day, I returned home, exhausted, at 7 PM, made a simple meal, and went to sleep, putting an end to a memorable and enjoyable Thanksgiving weekend.

You can see a few more pictures of the weekend on Flickr.

Fresh Fall Links

The past few days and months have been a whirlwind of activity. I prefer understatement, so I’ll just provide some links that you absolutely shouldn’t miss, and you click on them. Deal?

- My friend Dan wrote a terrific article about canvassing in New Hampshire.

- Dinky won a Fat Cat photo contest, giving me an excuse to meet some interesting people who know a lot about Springfield and Hartford politics.

- I’ve been taking a lot of pictures.

- I’ve gone sailing in Newport.

- I’ve joined a stock club.

- I tried my hand at knitting in Connecticut.

- I’ve been reading a bunch of books.

- I’ve become a regular at my local Manchester pub.

- I’ve been writing in my Field Notes.

- I’ve been meeting a lot of new people and realizing how much all of my older friends mean to me.

Thoughts on the DMV

The Department of Motor Vehicles is better known by its fear-inducing abbreviation: DMV. Just the mention of it conjures up visions of long waits, frumpy employees, miles of red tape and the queerest cross-section of society you can find in one place. It’s a place everyone avoids for as long as they can, but eventually nearly everyone has to go. The same, of course, can be said of death. Unfortunately, my need for a real car was dire with my beloved 1990 Celebrity Eurowagon, Big Red, threatening to crap out on me with every turn of the engine.  Therefore, I identified a suitable replacement, agreed a fee, gathered the paperwork and braced myself for my own purgatory at the DMV.

I firmly believe in being pleasant and polite with people who are doing their jobs, particularly in service industries. Judging by the scenes at the DMV, many people don’t share that belief. Still, I like to think that such a positive outlook makes experiences like a visit to the Department of Motor Vehicles far more tolerable for everyone involved. It was with that frame of mind that I went to take care of business, and despite having to wait for 3 hours in line and being told that a $32 property tax from two years ago prevented me from registering my new car, I tried to stay upbeat. Of course, I couldn’t drive home then, as was my plan, and everyone who could give me a lift was otherwise occupied. So then there was a 2 hour wait in the parking lot. I won’t say I was in the best of humor, but everything got sorted out the following day, leaving me to muse about possible ways to improve the DMV. Here’s what I came up with:

Let the employees take turns picking the music that plays over the loudspeakers. Facing up to combative people all day must take a toll on them, and hearing their favorite song come on would certainly lift their spirits a bit. I don’t think anyone likes the Muzak that plays there now, so anything would be a step up.

Put a big sign outside with the line numbers counting down. There are picnic tables, a river and a park by the Wethersfield DMV, and other DMVs have or should have similar attractions adjacent to them. Why force everyone to sit in a room for fear of missing their number? Let them go outside, soak up some sun, play with their kids and pets, whatever. Anything is better than sitting in a stuffy room glaring at the employees behind the counter.

Give the idlers sitting in the room something productive to do. I was lucky to find a crossword puzzle, but most of the hundreds of people in the room just sat and stared ahead with their eyes glazed over. Let them pedal some stationary bikes and provide power for the building, or having a knitting instructor teach them how to make clothes for the homeless. Let them paint a mural or learn algebra. Just harness the free time of thousands of people each day in a positive way.

Finally, make as much as possible web-based. Documents that require signatures and ID are obviously difficult to process online, but cutting down on the number of people forced to physically go to the DMV will save the time and resources of the state and its citizens.

That’s my take on what could be improved. If you’ve got other ideas, leave a comment and be heard!