Oprah, 6:37 p.m.
In lieu of the usual banners or “I Love You” signs, Bonnaroo music fans toted around all sorts of funky oddities to wave in the air, from papier-mâché shrunken heads on poles to lawn flamingos to twinkle-lit pimp canes (maybe in hopes that one of the artists might give them a shout out). There were also varying kinds of crazy headgear and costumes you’d notice spectators donning before shows, which only got more outlandish as the sun went down. This was one of my favorite sights.
Jambalaya, 6:40 p.m.
I probably spent more time eyeballing this jambalaya than Mumford and Sons, who were on at the time. Not that they weren’t great—I just had other priorities. Plus, I somehow managed to wind up in a swamp of couples, so gazing at the spicy goodness for a minute was slightly preferable to the canoodlers. However, the field was a sight to behold. It was absolutely packed with people swaying back and forth to the band’s guitar strumming as the sun began to set. There was no way to get around without rubbing sweaty shoulders with your neighbors, but at a certain point you stopped caring. One guy with a curly ‘fro flicked his bottle of cold water up in the air, which rained down a group of us. Had this happened at home, I probably would’ve wanted to punch him. Here, I wanted to grab him and give him a hug. It felt amazing.