Cindy Two

June 15
4:14, or possibly 3:14, a.m., depending on what time zone I’m in

First sign of Bonnaroo: exit 74 on rt. 24. Literally, a sign: expect delays at mile marker 111.

I still can’t get Bonnaroo Radio. Near it on the dial is that coast-to-coast program about UFOs, which is what I’ve been listening to for a few miles. I don’t know if it was that station or another one that talked about people “trickling in” for Bonnaroo, just as I was pulling off the road.

Having seemingly missed any chance of a 24-hour White Castle, I’m in a very smoky Waffle House somewhere near Murfreeesboro. It’s dingy and very near some railroad tracks I didn’t see when I came in. It seems to be dim out there, though maybe, just maybe, my eyes are tired.

I’m starting to see young people, oddly worn bandanas, Sun Records T-shirts. My people. Two kids just had some difficulty getting money from the ATM, and the waitress, whose name tag reads “Cindy Two,” told them, “We take VISA now.” Which I reckon won’t help them where they’re going.

I can’t wait to get there.