The best part about the Atlanta airport is seeing it getting smaller in your rearview mirror. In fact, that's the best thing about Atlanta in general, from what I can ascertain from my limited time flying into and driving out of "the ATL."
"Doesn't matter," I thought. "It's worth going through this to get to Bonnaroo!"
Packed into an SUV with my comrades and our gear, we left Atlanta in the dust ASAP. The car was filled to the brim, and Justin seems to like leaning his car seat back like a pimp, so I couldn't even get on the laptop to write my first post (I had no problem with this though – the guy had been driving all day and deserved to be comfortable).
"It's worth going through this to get to Bonnaroo!"But it's probably more appropriate to write it here because we have arrived. We're sitting under our portable pop-up, sandwiched by tents, in front of which sits our car, now empty of all our gear.
We are packed in this place like sardines. Rows and rows of cars, tents, people. There's no end to the ocean of concert-goers. All here with different opinions, life stories, occupations, and beliefs. But one thing is certain: they're all here for Bonnaroo. And Bonnaroo is one of the few places such diversity can peacefully exist in a population this large (if only for a few days).
Or, should I say, I hope it will be peaceful. As I was writing this, some random guy passed by our camp and shouted, "Bonnaroo's no place for laptops. Go back to the real world!"
Here we fucking go. [Bonnaroo]
Branden Hart, a TheSequitur.com assistant managing editor, works as an editor in San Antonio.
Bonnaroo News 
