was ah-frickin’-mazing.

Photo from Show Me Your Heart.

I’ll never forget:

• Seeing Marcus come on stage to perform with Dawes. I’m not proud of the hysterical fangirl squeel/scream I made when he first appeared. I didn’t know I could make that sound. I was mentally prepared to see them when they were officially announced, but was caught off guard by seeing him early with Dawes.
• Being such a sobbing, cathartic mess after half the songs that I couldn’t even clap or cheer.
• How much our campsite ROCKED. We lucked out, big time.
• The physical exhaustion, hunger, and sunburn that was all worth it.
• Timshel. No one thought they’d play it. I just about died when they did.

Quick recap:

• To the girl on extasy whose flailing arms continuously blocked my mumfview and who mistakenly thought “Timshel” was good rave music, fuck you.
• To the 4 tallest people at the concert who squeezed in front of us right when M&S took the stage, fuck you.
• To the sun that refused to set, fuck you.

• To Ben Lovett, for DJing “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” theme song at the after party, less than 10 feet from me, rock on.
• To the woman who I’m 99% sure was Lovett’s girlfriend, whom I happened to be standing behind: When you walked off, he kept looking over to see if you were back yet and would meet my awkward fangirl gaze instead, so thanks for enabling a stalk WIN.
• To my boyfriend who said we should switch phones so I’d have a smartphone with which to take pics at the concert or afterparty, you were right. Bummer I didn’t listen.
• To the taco vendor lady who let me buy plain tomatoes from her under the table, thanks, you rock.
• To the vendor(s) who let me steal meltey ice water from the tubs to refill my bottle, thanks.
• To the meltey ice water germs, thanks for being cool and not killing me.
• To all the people who lent sunscreen, thanks.
• To the shuttle bus driver that drove us all the way back to our campsite when we forgot our after-party passes, you rock.
• To the solar system, for providing a meteor shower Saturday night—as if it could get any more epic, thanks.
• And finally, to plaid, for being the official sponsor of the Gentlemen of the Road Tour, thanks. Without your support, 60% of the audience and performers might actually have to wear solids.