So I was a bit let-down by the Decatur Beach Party, but the Mid-Summer Music Fest helped me get over it. I distinctly remember this festival last year because I had just moved to Atlanta. It was very stressful moving away from family and not having any friends here yet. But that night I could hear the festival’s headliner Guster playing some hypnotic hippy tunes from my back patio, and I got this feeling that I would really like living in Atlanta.
This year I took my kids to the festival early in the afternoon. Admission was free and the kids play area was also free if you got on some company’s mailing list. Of course I want to know more about my home’s ventilation; sign me up!Â After the kids jumped and bounced and tore through one bottled water and six Caprisuns in two hours, we walkedÂ home to rest up then went back to the festival in the evening when it was cooler.
At one point, I took the kids to the port-a-potties, which were mega-crowded from all the beer drinkers who had now arrived to hear The Wailers and Better Than Ezra.Â My kids, being children, took forever in the bathroom, and as they came out, a drunken festival-goer who really needed to pee shouted out a sarcastic, “great job, kids!” while clapping. His sundress-clad groupies then laughed at the expense of my children, and that’s when my inner mama bear came out.
There are very few things that truly piss me off in this world. Most times I just think, oh that person’s just a douchbag/baguette; no need to get upset. But when someone’s douchebaggery crosses my kids’ path, watch out. I don’t care if you’re a drunk frat boy or a member of my family, do not joke, snap at, taunt or tease one of my children or you will deal with my wrath. My wrath of course is usually my tongue, which I bit after giving this guy my dirtiest look and mouthing “what the fuck?” in his direction.
I hope that man forgot his sunscreen and now has a wicked sunburn and a hangover.
After that momentary upset, I decided the playground was a better fit for us. Devon met up with one of her school friends and they chased lightning bugs as The Wailers sang, “don’t worry about a thing cuz every little thing is going to be alright…” Damn, first Guster and now the Wailers calming my nerves. Never underestimate the power of a hippy band at a festival. I’m surprised I didn’t start hula-hooping holding glow sticks.