My favorite non-music Bonnaroo memory, in recent memory, was in 2023. I was tripping balls and started to feel everyone’s energy in an unpleasant way so decided I was better off finding refuge somewhere in attempt of bringing myself back to center. Generally, I find myself returning to nature when I need to calm down what could be turning into a bad trip. For a second there, I forgot where I was, and my vision tunneled straight towards what I perceived to be a beautiful sandy beach. I walked on over, dug all my feet and hands into the sand, put my scarf over my head and I was back to good ole me. I ended up finding a cabana and beach chair, getting comfy and taking a long and lovely nap. The sun eventually woke me up, and I realized that this beach I was on, surrounded by palm trees and beach volleyballers, was actually around 70,000 pounds of sand funded by Bacardi in the middle of Manchester, Tennessee. So there I was, brought back to center, chillin at Casa Bacardi. The rest of Bonnaroo, my thoughts fixated on trying to figure how much sand was there, how they got it there, what they were going to do with it after and how much the sand itself costed. As someone who suffers from sand-based-sensory-overload, I am shocked to say that the grains of sand in every crevice of my body and clothes, left me immensely grounded in an oddly comforting way for the remainder of the weekend. Please comment your guess on how much 70-100 thousand pounds of sand would cost, and haaaapppppppppy roooooooooooooooo!!!!
