Is it really the end of July? Did summer really happen or has it all been a dream. 3 months ago I was sitting in my office looking out the window with my thoughts on warm air, green grass and clouds. The tree that was once fire red full of leaves had since lost all of its steam and sat bare for the winter, once again began to blume. Its branches were covered in bright white flowers almost blinding with the glare of the mid afternoon spring sun. I avoiding some sort of administrative task turn to Adam and say this year I will not miss Mountain Jam, and Bonnaroo is a must. Not at all surprised of my outburst Adam quickly logs onto the Bonnaroo site and takes a quick look at the line up. Silently I sit there watching him scroll through the list of bands, nodding everytime he sees one that he likes. Before he has the chance to respond I already know the answer I dart up and write ROO 2009 on the white board in our office. The leaves on the tree are now green that summer air has begun to flow through the valley, my bike ride to work has started earlier in the morning trying to avoid any summer heat. Its Wednesday, my last day of work before the adventure begins, for tomorrow is Bonnaroo and tonight is a road trip through the eastern mountains towards the land of twang. Excited never having been to a big festival before I come to work with a head full of thoughts, questions and excitement. Hardly able to contain my enthusiasm I barely get any real work done, I sit down to write some code but don't get very far with my mind wondering off to the fields 17 hours south. I attend a status meeting not catching a word of what has happened in the current project of the moment, music in my head and clouds in my eyes. I am subconsciously connected to all future plans without any realization that they exist. Like a kid on Christmas eve work crawls by, however unlike Christmas I decide to start the ride home a little early bringing me one step closer to Tennessee. Making record time to long island in rush hour traffic I scare cabs out of my way on the Triborough Bridge, for they do not have as important arrival time at a destination as I do.
Is it really the end of July? Did summer really happen or has it all been a dream. 3 months ago I was sitting in my office looking out the window with my thoughts on warm air, green grass and clouds. The tree that was once fire red full of leaves had since lost all of its steam and sat bare for the winter, once again began to blume. Its branches were covered in bright white flowers almost blinding with the glare of the mid afternoon spring sun. I avoiding some sort of administrative task turn to Adam and say this year I will not miss Mountain Jam, and Bonnaroo is a must. Not at all surprised of my outburst Adam quickly logs onto the Bonnaroo site and takes a quick look at the line up. Silently I sit there watching him scroll through the list of bands, nodding everytime he sees one that he likes. Before he has the chance to respond I already know the answer I dart up and write ROO 2009 on the white board in our office. The leaves on the tree are now green that summer air has begun to flow through the valley, my bike ride to work has started earlier in the morning trying to avoid any summer heat. Its Wednesday, my last day of work before the adventure begins, for tomorrow is Bonnaroo and tonight is a road trip through the eastern mountains towards the land of twang. Excited never having been to a big festival before I come to work with a head full of thoughts, questions and excitement. Hardly able to contain my enthusiasm I barely get any real work done, I sit down to write some code but don't get very far with my mind wondering off to the fields 17 hours south. I attend a status meeting not catching a word of what has happened in the current project of the moment, music in my head and clouds in my eyes. I am subconsciously connected to all future plans without any realization that they exist. Like a kid on Christmas eve work crawls by, however unlike Christmas I decide to start the ride home a little early bringing me one step closer to Tennessee. Making record time to long island in rush hour traffic I scare cabs out of my way on the Triborough Bridge, for they do not have as important arrival time at a destination as I do.
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