They said that having your first real date being a weekend-long music festival seemed like a bit of a risky idea. Sure, we’d known each other for years, but spending a weekend away together as our first romantic gesture was a bit of a relationship tester. But, I was up for it. A weekend away in the woods with someone I was feeling very chemically charged for seemed like the biggest thrill. Together but alone in a crowd, feeling the rhythms of music, humid June nights in a little tent, and an adventure on the road was enough to make my heart squeal with delight. We purchased the tickets hastily and made plans to meet that morning.
K picked me up in a packed station wagon. I had just my yellow satchel with a few scant clothing items and a bar of sandalwood soap. We stopped in Kentucky; he bought me a disposable camera and a carton of Camels. It took us 14 hours but we finally arrived at our destination in the middle of the night. There was a long line of cars in the dust under a golden moon. K pulled over. “Well, we’re not going anywhere for awhile,” he said as we approached the line of traffic waiting to get into the farm where the festival was being held. It was a long drive and the thought of setting up camp seemed comforting. No one liked the idea of spending all night sitting in traffic as the ticket takers checked people in.