The Magical Weekend

And a Magical Weekend it was. I have had some awesome party packed, light strobin, alchohol injected, epiphany-reaching weekends these past few months...but this Ace of a weekend takes the Cake.

The Cro from Tampa bumped up to ATL Thursday night, following my kickball team's glorious W that got us into the all-conference kickball tournament that in no way, shape, or form would Shad and I miss, following an STS9 run....woops.

To all those who are thinking about flying to come see me, I wouldnt recommend it. I must be emitting some jaded aura that hovers over Atlanta-Harsfield International Airport, because the past three weekends in a row my buddies have all gotten delayed HOURS coming to see me. I don't know what I have to do to shake this kinda-fuck-up-our-plans syndrome being casted down from the airplane gods...shamanic intervention? Fasting for two weeks? Human Sacrifice? I dont know but they better stop fucking with me.

So, The Cro and I scoop up Skeechy-Cheeks from Ohio at the airport around 10PM, and hop skip away to see Papadosio at the 5 spot in Little 5 for a pre STS9 gathering. This is the packedest (I dont think thats a word?) I had ever seen my favorite little hole in the wall venue. The experimental, rootsy fusion of electronica, bombastic bass plucking, and moving (sometimes haunting, sometimes epic) keyboard manipulation brought the house down and summoned at least one more die-hard Papa-promoting follower to their ranks. The concert was great, but you could almost feel that everyone was holding back, excited and anxious, mentally preparing ourselves for the ensuing ragefest of a weekend. Bartender, double bourbon diet to quiet down these fluttering butterflies in my tummy? Thank you sir, goodnight and godspeed.

Friday - I was not able to join my craziness-conducive counterparts for the first night of STS9, so ultimatly, the concert sucked. They were thinking about cancelling the concert, but being so modest and understanding, I replied with a "play on brother, play on;)" Alternatly, TimmyJ was able to participate in his first friend-wedding. All the groomsmen positions were taken, but I was a last minute pickup by the Quinn/Nicole Fisher squad to fill the position of "Reception RageMaestro" to ensure booties were boogyin', feet were flashdancin, and stankylegs were..stankin' (in a good way...it smells funky when you have 75 passionate stanky-leggers grinding their rubber heels against marble floors in unison for a mere 3.5 mins..my B). Took the after party to the W, freaked it out in the VIP, and courtesy cabbed home. Not bad for the first friend-wedding, congrats and your welcome QNF. The Reception Ragemaestro is not a position for the light-hearted or heavy-footed, so feel free to reach out for advice...the memories of the wedding are resting on your shoulders...

SATURDAY - After planning how we were going to get Shad onto one of the two Disco Party Busses at Hippie Heaven, we decided to just bring him, what were they going to say, get a cab back from Conyers to ATL? Maybe, but not likely. So Skeetchy McSceecherson, The Cro, Shad, and our Charleston gypsies hopped in the Exploder for a weekend that we will go down in herstory (I've been trying to be more politically correct lately). We trekked about 30 miles through backroads, snaking out of ATL and landed at well, I forgot whose house it was, but from here on out it is dubbed Hippie Heaven. The Huemungo house was in the distance after we drove up the quartermile of a driveway, with a Barn...with horses by the name of Rebel and such, this is gonna be a good day.

For fourty bucks we got a place on the party bus to and from Heaven, 4 kegs, and afterparty with a few bands and DJ, fully decked out with light and sound technician, and the helicopter pad acting as the dance stage....yeah helicopter pad. Thanking the Universe that I had decided to buy the big gulp water bottle, I proceeded to fill up my first 24 ounces to freedom. After our funny conversation of "Hey, can we add another person to the party bus?"..."No we have no more room." (Input Frantic look on our faces as Rashad is already there) "Well, he is right here....sooo" "Ok thats cool then, forty bux please" No problema amiga, muchas gracias. See! Not only am I focusing on being more politically correct, I am also speaking spanish randomly...you know, bi-lingual is in, it's like having a tan, or a million-bucks....it just helps guys thats all.

The first bus was jam-packed and rocking back and forth, so we scooted to the second, which could not be more opposite...for the time being. Our driver was a Dale Earnhart (RIP #8) lookalike with a cowboy hat, sweet shades, and a ponytail. The inside of the bus looked like a run-down motel 6 from the 80's, mirrors running on the roof, uphostery on the walls and floors, and it was Awesome. As the overflow from bus #1 started making their appearances on el autobus numero dos (yep,there it is again) the party got kicked up 3 notches. Three because the music came on, more alchohol rolled in, and the bus got moving, lets do this.

I won't explain much on the bus because I am going to post some videos that explain it all, but it was OUT OF CONTROL. After 15 minutes, we managed to jimmy open every emergency exit, window, and import (beer) we could find and the game was on. STS9 bumping in the speakers, ecstatic energy eroding my ear drums, pure happiness being shared with driver-bys on the highway with a big hello and "Come on the PartyBus....WOOOOOOO." I was feeling damn sexy and in complete control with my $5.00 Road Warrior sunglasses I picked up at the local quiktrip until...BOOOOM! Ohh shit, well I know none of these kids have a gun, half of them would'nt know how to work it...so that means only one thing, tire popage. Are you serious? Haha the look on half of these partypeople's faces was pure fear, instigated by visions of missing the concert, half-tripped out hippies running across the interstate like a tie-die band of wild indians, and bladder-busting boys and girls taking off to the woods to unload. However, the busdriver, understanding of the position he was in to make a power move, said fuck it and kept driving...NOW TURN IT UP!

I will never do will call again for big concerts, fuck the 15$ in surcharges we are forced to pay through ticketmaster (More on that in a later blog, what is up with all these "convenience charges and "Standard Charges"? Convenience is costing too much...), its a hell of a lot better than waiting 45 mins by yourself in line while you see your group frolicking into the entrance like a scene from Wizard of Oz down the yellow-brick road. After cutting in line, making it through the gate and grabbin a few brews, the day and night flowed together like Big L and Jay Z in their historical 7 minute freestyle...seamlessly. Reuniting with old-friends from Raindance Festival, recruiting countless new ones, and alternating sets between the lawn and Pit kept everything fresh and new. From meeting a guy with shoes made out of tennis balls, being in the front row for one of my all-time favs bassnectar, and jumpin and jivin to the sweet sounds and lightshow of STS9 the event was once again, unforgettable.

As the show writes to a close, we make a few wrong turns and just make it on the partybus. This trip is a little different then the ride there. Everyone is pooped, no seats available, so I got to get my monkey arms on and hang the whole 45 mins back to Hippie Heaven. Better than driving though, anyday. When we arrive the kegs are getting tapped once again, light/sound techs are finishing up, and everyone gets mentally prepared for the next event that will be even crazier than the busride and concert.

Everywhere you look, you see shadows scattered around the barn, the lawn, the pond/lake, and the helicopter pad. Some of these shadows never leave their hiding places, absolutly content with where they are, some dont come out because they got lost somewhere in the enless acres of the H.H property. The Crew and I dabbled in the shadows to and from the barn, but ended up adding more buddies to my Facebook account down by the "stage." I was kicking it with DJ ____ and found out it was his first show, of course I would show my support in glowing-groupie fashion. The band, I dont remember much of, but we all were raging until about 2-3 AM when the neighbors put in noise complaints (fact: The closest neighbor was a mile away). Yeah, we were blowing it out!

Like zombies from Resident Evil (See how times change, no more Night Of the Living Dead analogies, gotta stay fresh for the kiddies) we all turned our attention and crawled towards the warmth and beauty of the bonfire we saw beyond the barn. Strangers- now best friends joined around the fire to reflect upon the rising sun of the next morning in the distance. But The Cro and I were not finished, there was more beer to be drunk!

The sun was now up, 7AM and there are still about 25 straglers/warriors still raging and we decided it would be a good idea to make a trip out to the floating dock in the middle of the pond to see how the property looked from there. I mistook the canoe for a rowboat and pounced in like a newborn kitten, but my nimble legs were not on the same page and I took a flip into the water. No harm done, little cold, and all electronic devices were in the side of my pocket that didn't get wet. But as William Wallace would have never backed down from the English and retreat, TimmyJ would not let a little water get in his way of nautical victory(It's the scottish in me)! I swear I never had experienced such a time where reality and a Dream were woven so tightly together that I could do nothing but laugh in amazement. Above, you can see a pirate overboard, he was not as lucky as myself, but he made it! We enjoyed some toasts and moments of enlightenment and paddled back to the car where Shad and SkeechieCheeks had been napping for hours and saluted Hippie Heaven for all the Wonderfullness that had exuded from that happy happy place.

One more twist. On our way back to Atlanta, I thought it would be hilarious to continue down to Tampa while Shad was asleep and surprise him when he had risen. After about 3.5 hours, Shad awoke with a look of bewilderment, confusion, and glazed eyes to see that we were not in Kansas or Georgia anymore. Surprise, going to Tampa woop woop!!! The joke was awesome, but after 5 mins I passed out and woke up pulling into The Cro's homestead. Well, welcome to Tampa. Next two days consisted of recovery, laughs, coming down from Hippie Heaven, and renting a car at Tampa Airport for our ride home. And that my friends, was a Magical Weekend...

Lessons Learned: Not much this time, except always broaden your network and relationships to a network where no matter where you are, you will have a helping hand to show you a good time, or to lift you out of a potentially problematic situation. Instead of waiting for someone else to introduce themselves, or the miraculous drop a bunch of papers (my favorite cheezy chick flick move that never happens in real life)/keg cups on the ground, kneel to pick them up, and find yourself locked in a gaze with your dream fairy, your soon to be love of your life... ok I'll stop...step up ,throw out a hand and a smile and all-good will follow...most of the time ;)