It’s Sunday morning and I’m sitting in my usual blogging
spot at Nina’s coffee shop in St. Paul pondering why anybody would pronounce “Nina’s”
with the long I. Those employed by the establishment like it that way, but I
still come here. I’ve been calling my grandmother Nina for 37 or so years and
that’s how I spell it. When she sends me cards, she signs her name, “Neena”,
which I guess phonetically is how I pronounce it. This puts me in a tough spot.
But I digress.
This is where I started my yesterday out, but not in the
normal fashion. I met up with a few fine folks from the rooms of A.A. and we
tilted a couple cups and embarked on a road trip to Center City to the Hazelden
campus for Hazelfest 2016. This would be the fourth consecutive outdoor concert
in the known history of the world renown drug and alcohol treatment center. I
went to the youth version of the program back in 2001 and had a fairly good run
at sobriety. I’ve written plenty on those years so I’ll get back on track.
We got there and were guided into a parking spot in a giant
grass field by an inept gentleman in an orange vest who, in my mind, is
currently waving around one of those light-up orange traffic deals that you see
at airports. I think he may have just been pointing with his finger, but my
mind gets carried away sometimes. Also I remember him having the lower torso of
a gerbil. Anyhow, I desperately needed to pee because I hadn’t gone since I
left the coffee shop and it was time. I peed.
We meandered, but not caterwauled, over a trail through the
brush to the parking lot where we checked in and gaged the scene. I saw eight
food trucks; my wallet would get lighter soon. There was a crowd already which
would no doubt grow as the day grew shorter and the “Big” bands started to play.
I was with two ladies and another guy. The two boys split
off to find adventure. We took a slow loop of the food vendors. My friend
wanted a gyro (pronounced Neena), a staple of food trucks, and we found that
particular vendor and ordered. I can’t recall what my food was called, but it
contained at least 2,000 calories and it was amazing. I normally eat pretty
healthy food, but today would be special. We gorged ourselves and wandered
through a tent in which people were peddling various wares and services. My
friend and I agreed that our day would be full of competition at the various
games and skill challenges, but neither of those things existed there so we
settled on a spin-off at the wheel of eating disorders, and a mini claw game.
After the merchant’s tent, we found a petting zoo. In order
to respect the anonymity of the program, I have and will not use names or
pictures of people there. But goats are fair game. Well, chickens are actually
game, but I didn’t take any pictures of them. If you don’t already know, farm
animals are incredibly boring, I think maybe that’s why we eat them instead of
scratch their bellies and give them treats. Enough of the petting zoo. We left.
Friend and I found the ladies, had a few pictures taken, saw
Curious George (I think it may have just been a person in a costume, but that’s
only speculation as I was unable to remove the head piece while he was running away
from me.), and went down to the area with the stage. The sun was overhead as is
normally the case during the daytime hours, and we had about six hours of music
coming. It was getting hot.
The first band that we sat down for was Davina and the
Vagabonds. They started up and I immediately remembered why I hate jazz; the
sound. I was able to stay seated while fifty and sixty-year-old women twitched
and twirled in front of the stage. I couldn’t take more than half of the set
and I got up in frustration and left to search for entertainment. I found a
bathroom which I put above jazz music in every graph and chart I have ever made
that contain the two. By the time I got back, they were done. There was peace
and quiet.
Next up, and equally as disappointing, The Honeydogs.
Promoted as a 70’s style rock band, The Honeydogs performed more like
seventy-year-old rocks. I understand that’s not very old for a rock, but it was
funny in my head. They did a lot of that thing where they get really close with
their instruments and smile at each other… I really hate that. They were out of
tune, out of sync, and the singer was dreadful. I believe there was probably a
lot of talent up on that stage musically, but they weren’t using any of it.
Just terrible.
By contrast, Hippo Campus is a group of guys just a few years
out of high school that, to me, sounded like had been classically trained in
music. Everything about them was right. I even looked down to see my foot
moving around to the beat. I believe they call that dancing. Three of the four
in the group are St. Paul natives and all graduates of St. Paul Conservatory
for Performing Arts. It was my favorite performance in years.
There was one more band that made quite a show. I had only
heard of Cloud Cult on the radio, but I had never actually heard a song. I’m
not sure how to categorize their music, but it was well done. Each artist had
more musical talent possibly that anybody I’ve ever met combined. I say that
because they were all surrounded by a few different instruments that they would
switch out throughout the act. None of them had a kazoo which is the only
contribution I could have made.
They also had two artists painting the pictures you may be able to see in this picture. At the end of the show they would be auctioned off to benefit people who couldn't afford treatment.
Overall it was a really fun day. There was a lot of
laughter, a lot of food, and a lot of sun. At this very moment all of my front casing
hurts. It’s my skin’s defense to the sun’s powerful rays, but to me it just
looks red. I will definitely go back next year.
