It's the last day of Bluesfest 2013, and the major headliner was B.B. King. And we tried. We really tried. We got to the grounds early enough to catch some of Alice in Chains, and I was just delighted to hear that it was a good show. I feared it wouldn't be, as it often the case when one member of the band takes the name and the music and runs with it, but they rocked the fucking joint! We had hoped to stay through Serena Ryder and catch Mr. King, but two things just defeated us in the end: the fact that we were melting (no hydration could save us), and the fact that I was just so tired, listless and cranky from the heat and humidity we've been struggling through.
In the end, we didn't even make it two full songs into the Serena Ryder show before we bailed. We went to the swag tent to buy an AIC t-shirt, Etienne bought some records from the record shack that had been set up throughout the festival, and we headed out. On the way, we ran into my friend S. and her boyfriend, and we turned over our festival bracelets to them to get in and enjoy. Hey, if we couldn't enjoy, someone might as well!
We went for dinner at Johnny Farina, and stumbled home, where I've taken refuge in the bedroom with the air conditioner and an ice bag. Why society won't just let me roll up to the festival in a bikini if it's going to be that fucking hot, I don't know.
We had the best of intentions, Mr. King...
...Wish you were here.
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