Hardly Strictly Typical
If you’ve had your fill of bluegrass festival talk feel free to move on. But this evening my friends and I were still basking in the afterglow of that recently passed musical event in the park. Great music for three days straight; hippies, hipsters, yuppies, oldies, bikers, walkers, drivers, BARTers, daddies, mommies, and little kiddies all rubbing shoulders and taking in the sun and performers at an incredibly clean and organized event. According to the Chron, police estimated around 500,000 in attendance over the three days. And yet the portapotties were relatively clean, the food was only a little overpriced, and I missed alcohol only a little bit.
This was definitely one of the best music festivals I’ve been to. It’s hard to beat free.
Can’t say I envied anyone who had to rely on street parking anywhere near the park. The bike parking area alone was crowded to overflowing and it seemed that every tree, barrier, and lightpost along JFK Drive had a frame tethered to it.
As I was doing laundry Sunday morning, a pitiful young man nearly spat as he opined to his friends “bluegrass, that cracker trash ain’t even music. I’d rather listen to smooth jazz in some yuppie supper club than listen to that shit.” When I looked up, I half expected to see some crazed, reality-challenged panhandler but instead saw what appeared to be a typical student, albeit with what appeared to be a wrought-iron poker through his heart.
Boy, he missed out. Earl Scruggs played the Ballad of Jed Clampett. Emmylou was Emmylou. Steve Earle played Willin’ and flipped off the Blue Angels. I love Little Feat. And the Blue Angels. Perfect.