Last weekend, I joined more than 80,000 people to make one of the largest cities in Tennessee. For five days and four nights, I lived beside other people in such close proximity, it was unfit by even a slave ship’s standards. Despite the diminuitively-sized living quarters, my time there was well-spent.

My journey to the magical village of Bonnaroo began here in Ames. I hopped into a friend’s car, and we backed out of my driveway, crushing two backpacks left on the trunk of the car. Convinced this would be the only negative point of our journey South, we sped out of town around 8 p.m.

A bottle of No Doz and 12 hours later, we arrived at our destination — almost. For the next five hours, we carefully navigated through a 30-mile line of cars. Most Bonnaroo attendees were quite calm despite the blistering heat. It was unsuspecting Tennessee locals that caused the ruckus. I can imagine their frustration, but it certainly wasn’t a good enough reason to create a third lane on the shoulder of the road. This slowed traffic even further and made us vulnerable to being sideswiped by renegade minivans trying to merge back onto the road.

We finally reached our camp site. All the campgrounds were named after hideous hairstyles. I was a proud member of campground FutureMullet.

As we were unpacking, my mind started to wander. I wondered what it was about this place that was so magical. What would cause people to come here from every part of the country? Heck, we even passed by a few Canadians along the way.

Maybe the people make this festival great. I was there for all that time, yet I didn’t hear any negative talk. Also, I was able to trust my belongings to be safe in an unlocked tent when I was out and about. When you’re out of your tent for six hours at a time, as I was on the first day, this can become a very large issue. Luckily, there was no need to worry.

People at Bonnaroo seemed to have a different outlook on life than I’m used to. An atmosphere of love and understanding was apparent no matter where I wandered. No one there cared that I hadn’t showered for a number of days. No one pointed out the fact that my hair wasn’t in order. These were my kind of people. Being a person that frequently has “I’m wearing the same clothes I was wearing yesterday” days, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the judgmental society we live in.

As we exited the campgrounds, a man was holding a sign proclaiming the fact that God dislikes the “Rock and Roll lifestyle.” I have to give the man some credit — it takes a strong will to be the only person confronting 80,000 people about their hedonistic tendencies.

This brings me to the second possible explanation for Bonnaroo’s greatness: access to drugs. It was impossible to make the long trek to see live music without being bombarded by people peddling their illicit substances. The oncoming traffic always yielded a few people who would call out “Headies” or “Doses.” For some, this may have been the reason for being at Bonnaroo, but I doubt these people were in the majority.

Over the course of two hours, I listened to Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals lay it down in good fashion. I had recently attended a concert by the group here in Ames at Hilton. Again, a blistering performance left me awestruck. However, one thing was different this time. In the middle of the set, Ben talked to the crowd for a short while. He said that no matter how many times his music is played on the radio, we should remember his roots. He thanked everyone there for being true to the music, and for supporting him before his songs became so-called “popular.” People at this festival abhor popular music — to them, it’s a disease.

Ultimately, I think it is the music that makes Bonnaroo great. The passion that flows through their voices and instruments is unparalleled by any music heard on the radio.