Editor’s Note: This is floridabout’s first work of fiction. I attended Suwannee Springfest in March. The musical acts I watched and my impressions of them come through in the thoughts of the protagonist. Everything else is uniquely hers.
She woke up just after first light, tired and about half sick- with cotton mouth and stiffness running up the right side of her back in the crook between her spine and right shoulder blade, not quite a hangover, just a reminder of the day before. The cool of the night had yet to give way to the Florida sun and she smiled at the thought of what an amazing time was had the previous evening. Last night was worth a little pain in the stomach and behind the eyes. She took a sip that soon turned into a chug of the stagnant water in her Nalgene bottle once her lips and throat adjusted to being in action again. Last night those lips and throat took on a handful of beers but that is all, hence the discomfort, not pain that she was facing. Drugs were rarely her thing. There were plenty to be had around the campground, but using was not quite the cliché that music festival legend would have you believe. She knew from experience where to go if she wanted some pot or a mushroom, and consequently knew the places to avoid if she was not feeling like having that kind of night.
This was her fourth Suwannee Springfest, twelfth music festival overall. There was always too much to see and she planned her days well in advance so as not to make the wrong choice in the fog of morning. The week before each festival was marked by distracted days at work, pulling up the schedule on her phone and flipping a coin between The Gourds and Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit. But she never felt regret for choosing one act over the other. You really could not miss at these things. She made a decision and enjoyed it either way. This time those choices would prove fortunate in other ways.
The morning wasn’t all discomfort and fogginess. Her heart fluttered at the first sight of her campground neighbor. Her hula hoop got loose and slammed into a pair of gangly legs during Two Gentleman Band’s 11:00 A.M. opening show the day before, a fortuitous bounce for a single young woman. He convincingly feigned anger as the hoop ricocheted off his calf and for a moment her buzz was killed. She had just enjoyed a mimosa with some festival friends, the kind who are from some far off place and that you would never know except for the festival. She keeps up with them on Twitter and Facebook and always makes a point to share some time with them at every show. The combination of old friends, champagne, and the picturesque porch stage under its oak canopy put her in a perfect mood until the runaway hoop turned fate. His stare made her insecure for a split second. But the scowl gave way to a familiar smile, familiar because everyone seemed to have one permanently fixed at these events. The difference with him was his smile’s frame- saucer-sized green eyes with dark eyelashes, a button nose, and a barely perceptible dimple on the left side of his face. A charming face that begged to be examined. But, she was cool. She took a mental snapshot, apologized profusely, and went right back to swaying her hips in rhythm.
When he flashed that winning smile again this morning she was hooked. She needed to brush her teeth and give her body a quick rinse, but if he invited her for breakfast or a drink or some pot she would be powerless to decline. And so she had a bloody mary and a vegan burrito. Bacon would have been nice, but she loved that he had principles, or maybe she loved that he was different. Either way she loved a lot about him, this hippie guy who was a still basically a stranger. But she had learned a few things about him the day before, things that his appearance belied.
He was at the next show too. She did not notice him at first because Florida’s own Grant Peeple’s was absolutely killing it with folk songs about war and peace and bad love. He eventually caught her eye because he spoke to the boy, maybe thirteen years old, standing next to the stage and singing along with every song. That boy caught her attention. On her first festival she was struck by the number of kids, usually really young kids, dancing around, playing with toys. The sight was confusing at first, but not all that strange when you really thought about. Parents wanted to go to the festival, kids wanted to go camping along the Suwannee, it all made sense. But there was something about this kid, pre-teen and hanging on every word, dancing around and nodding to the music. Her stranger had a moment with the boy. She speculated about their conversation, but it kept coming out weird. She jumped to a handful of conclusions about how good-hearted he is before dismissing the notions and mindlessly resuming her hooping. This time felt like a missed opportunity. She could have used the boy as an icebreaker, but she was too focused on the music.
The burrito had black beans and guacamole with some kind of spicy aoli-like sauce that packed just enough punch. Neither said much, eyes locking occasionally and lips parting for a second. She wanted to ask him about the boy from yesterday, but was still too struck with him to say much of anything at all. She imagined them traveling the country going to festivals, quitting their day jobs and picking up freelance writing or photography to make ends meet.
Their first real conversation was at the singer-songwriter showcase after Peeples’ set concluded. The sky started to darken as Justin Townes Earle, Jim Lauderdale, and Jason Isbell took the stage. This was the show she had been waiting for. She was locked onto Justin’s gaunt face as he covered his microphone so as not compete with Isbell as he sang along to the excellent “Alabama Pines”. She covered nothing while belting out the chorus and twirling her hoop. That’s when he snuck up beside her playfully covering his legs and head in a crouched position to protect his body from errant hula hoops. He had a beer in each hand and offered one to her. They shared their love for Isbell and Earle and agreed that Jim Lauderdale should be way more famous than he is. She told him about selling cell phones in the mall for a living and he surprised her by saying that he was a fire fighter EMT. She joked that he should be at a Nickelback show. He indulged her with a laugh but she could tell that the stereotype cut him.
The burrito was no match for her nervous energy and high blood pressure from the beers. She quickly downed the meal and decided that it was in fact time to finally make her way to freshen up. But he was already at work on a refill for that nearly empty bloody mary and against her better judgment she decided to stay for one more.
That second beer went down a lot easier than the first as they walked over to grab some food in between shows. Jason Isbell was walking around the food court – a carnival-like string of booths – while they waited in line at a vegan place. Inside she was losing her mind, standing in line with her new crush and looking at her idol walk by. She did not say a word to Jason and neither did anyone else. Such is the way of the festival. It is not strange to see the musicians mingling in the crowd or grabbing a bite to eat. She jabbed her finger into her stranger’s ribs to get his attention. He whispered that he knew and gave her an almost patronizing laugh. He had committed to meeting some friends at one of the smaller stages, so she went on to watch Justin do his thing with a full band on the Porch Stage without the stranger.
The next bloody mary went down a little slower. The night before was trying to catch up with her and she needed to get the blood flowing. She suggested a walk around the lake that forms the skeleton core of the campground. He did not even have to answer.
Justin Townes Earle stole the show. She could hear people around her, newcomers to the royal offspring’s music, asking why they had never heard of him. It was one of those moments that reinforced why she came to festivals. And it only got better. Her stranger came up behind and put his hand on the small of her back. She always liked her back and appreciated when a man recognized it. The simple act warmed her for a second. Neither of them said a word during the show, and that felt natural. It wasn’t until after the show that he said his friends led him to an act he was not feeling, so he came to see JTE. She wanted to believe that he came solely to see her. She was mostly right.
The lake is not very big and their walk was over in what seemed like an instant. Again, very little was said, but she was content. She liked being around him, seeing the festival through his virgin eyes. He told her that this was his first festival, but that he was already hooked. By the time they got back to the campground the sweat had beaded up and she felt salty, beyond ready for a shower. She thanked him for breakfast and told him she was heading to outstanding local folk singer Whetherman’s 11:00 show. He smiled and said okay.
floridabout 