Sometime around midnight we found our way back to our parking spot behind the porta-potties. Dirty and exhausted we tried to sleep in the car. I had eaten a questionable falafel from a street vendor during the Tom Petty concert which only added to the discomfort of all in the car. It was about 90 degrees in the dark so we rolled down the windows to let in an almost nonexistent breeze. The grass under our car was apparently home to every insect found in the state of Tennessee and so every time I opened the door to trek to the porta-potty, the dome light came on, and bugs swarmed in through the open windows. We tried hanging beach towels in the open windows as a screen but that ended up just blocking the breeze. We started to settle into our misery and doze when the last concert of the evening let out. Gradually our camp came alive with revelers. Firecrackers went off. Laughing, cursing, stumbling people made their way past our vehicle to their respective tents.
A fight broke out in a tent two rows over and we were privy to every word of the argument. Someone out on the prairie yelled, “Shut the hell, up!” and the camp settled down again. Tossing, turning, and sighing we tried to quietly endure our misery without disturbing our fellow passengers. At three a.m. we finally came to our senses. We weren’t sleeping, we were being eaten alive by bugs, and the hotel that we had labeled disgusting earlier that day now seemed like a palace. Lisa pulled out her cell phone and found a taxi service willing to drive out to the middle of nowhere to pick us up. We gathered our pillows and started the long dark walk to the entrance of the festival. Surprisingly, we weren’t the only festival goers looking to escape the festival in the middle of the night. There at the entrance was a train of taxi’s waiting to make their pick ups. Seeing the logo of the cab company she called, Lisa guided us to the aged rust colored sedan.