Nightmare (Turned Fun) On Beale Street

Holy co-blogger, Batman! I just logged on to write a bit about the weekend...only to see that she has beat me to it. By golly, I think she's finally getting the hang of this thing!

So after a late night out Midtowning it on Friday night, we groggily forced ourselves to head out to Tom Lee Park in the Arctic temperatures on Saturday afternoon, which Julie so eloquently recapped. Once she headed off to Tap Room that night, I sat in the parking garage for an hour stuck in traffic before I could go meet my friends up at The Buccaneer. It was a rough day all around and when I arrived, I was greeted with a back massage and a nice big gin and tonic. Smart friends.

Once I peeled myself out of bed Sunday morning and got outside to see that it was actually a happy, sunshiny day, I felt a little better. (Gin is the devil) We got to the festival around 3p and were both escorted in, red carpet style (or at least red Honda Accord style) by Thursday Night Fever's very own, Captain T and Mr. Roboto. They were kind enough to hook us up with backstage passes, free food vouchers, and a steady supply of Coronas. (And yes, there really was only one Corona stand in the whole freakin' place.)

Surprisingly, I was disappointed with Medeski, Martin and Wood's show, so the TNF guys and I left Julie and the frat lawyers for a bit to go check out Ike Turner and War, who both got their grooves on big time. Conveniently, this meant another swing by the Corona stand. This time, we even helped them push it back out to the field, as we met them backstage for a reload.

For the rest of the day we pretty much kicked it on the sidelines which was full of fabulous mud-free concrete and celebs. Also had a killer view of the Mississippi River. Being a nature girl, I always get reflective with beautiful views, but this particular one always reminds me of Jeff Buckley and all that he could have been. God rest his soul.

On a lighter note, the evening was filled with things like encounters with Kate Hudson. A few "special moments" with Rich Robinson of The Black Crowes. Chillin' with Billy Idol's drum tech while waiting for the port-o-potty. Billy Idol, himself, only feet away. And after rocking out to Billy's punk heavy show, the Crowes hit the stage, and Julie and I continued to dance our troubles away for the next several hours.

So aside from freezing most of the time, sloshing around in nasty mud, having my favorite jacket stolen, losing my wallet, missing my car (and me) being totaled by one inch (yes, ONE INCH), and a bit of heartbreak, the VIP treatment worked as a great elixir.

Muchas gracias, amigos.