Langerado or bust

It was about five years ago when I heard reports about dehydrated concert goers getting stranded by running out of gas and frying in the brutal sunshine of Alligator Alley while trying to get to Langerado... and now I understand why.

This year wasn't all that different except that after I made the trek down the turnpike, jumped on 595, merged onto 75 and got off the Big Cypress Seminole Reservation exit, Mamma Nature decided to give us a good drenching downpour with quite a light show to boot.

However, I was pleased that media check in went unusually smooth and that I was on my way through the 15 miles of swampland that would take me to the entrance of the festival. That was at about 4 p.m. and it is now 10 p.m. I sat in the line of cars with lightning all around and wondered if the weather was ever going to let up, where my campground would be and if the bands were even going to start on time.

Around 8:45 p.m. I finally got through the festival gates and got the run around from a lot of different security guards that kept pointing me in the wrong direction. I ended up asking one of the vendors named McGuyver if he could fill me in on where I needed to park and pitch my tent and thankfully, he showed me a safe place in their village to call my abode for the night.

After helping him resurrect his drenched tent, he then gave me a ride in his glorified golf cart to the grounds so I didn't have to hoof it through the mud most of the way. I walked by Les Claypool jamming out, which he is doing as I write this from the media tent.The weather finally cleared up, the stars are out, and the crowd - despite the stresses of getting into Langerado - is elated to finally get their jam on!

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