Drunk, Sober, High: Carrboro Music Festival

In a college town, students are known to experience local events in various states of inebriation. Inspired by a series started at New York University’s blog NYULocal, we asked our staffers to write about their experiences drunk, high and sober. To protect their reputations, we kept their identities anonymous. This week — the Carrboro Music Festival.

Drunk

This Sunday began with a sad assessment of my stash, realizing I only had an overly sweet bottle of red moscato and a small bottle of Barefoot chardonnay. I employed a sidekick to assist me on my music festival and alcohol drinking journey. After both wine bottles were bone dry (probably a little too much if we are being honest) my sidekick and I walked to Carrboro.

Our first official stop was Weaver Street Market. The entire lawn was filled with families, dogs, couples and tons of children. The band was jamming, but what caught my drunk eye was the balloon animal stand in the store entrance. Tiago Furtado, 14, is a young entrepreneur who not only gave me her business card, but also the best balloon animal turtle bracelet I’ve ever seen.

We took a few minutes to soak in the beautiful jazz rock sounds of Triple Fret, then realized there was no booze to keep our buzz going. We moved on to Fifth Season Gardening Co.

The group of humans enjoying this concert gave me a strong desire to move to Carrboro, open a brewery and never look back.

The final destination on our expedition was Tyler’s stage. Two-dollar PBRs, snacks and dogs everywhere kept us around for awhile. All different ages joined to listen to Bellflower, an original rock band, and Billy Sugarfix & The Early Girls.

After an hour we sauntered our way to Spicy 9 to chug water and eat more pad Thai and sushi than we should have.

Sober

Let me just say, I love Carrboro. Like, a lot. Walking around the Carrboro Music Festival for a day was basically a dream come true. I got dropped off outside The Music Loft and saw three tie-dye dresses and two leather vests right off the bat. This pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day.

A band was playing in the outdoor area of The Music Loft. They were good until I saw a dog and got distracted.

I followed the dog for a little bit while trying to look like I wasn’t. Actually, there were dogs everywhere. And people.

I saw a mini donut food truck as I walked, and I’m convinced it’s the greatest idea anyone has ever had. They smelled really good, but I’m broke and they cost money.

I made it to Weaver Street Market, the center of the festival. There were little kids running all over the place and climbing trees. A lot of kids had balloon animals but I had no idea where they were getting them. People were everywhere, eating and laughing and trying to keep their children from falling out of trees. I hope this is what my life looks like in 20 years.

I finally left Weaver Street Market and made my way toward Glasshalfull. I met a dog named Loki. He was wearing a tiny shirt and wagged his tail when he saw me, even though he didn’t know me. It made me feel special.

High

Because John (a fake name due to the fact that getting high is illegal) and I were stoned, we started looking for donuts. Then we found a man playing guitar at Looking Glass Cafe. The crowd swayed. The song came out smooth and strong. I have no idea what the song was about, but I know it was magical. Donuts would’ve been magical too, but we had already forgotten about them.

Eventually hunger got the best of us, and we went to split a pizza. The pizza got rid of the grape blunt taste in my mouth, but the sauce stained my hand. John thought the pizza tasted cheesy and rich in garlic. I was so high that I don’t remember what it tasted like.

We walked through crowds of people and got distracted a lot, later finding a table of free cookies. If I was sober, I wouldn’t have eaten cookies. But I was high, so I ate four.

The band at Cat’s Cradle transfixed me with a song about Kansas City. I have never felt so passionate about Kansas City in my life, and I probably won’t again.

Like a mirage, a donut food truck appeared in the distance. After spending $8 on mini donuts covered in chocolate sauce and peanut butter powdered sugar, I felt my dreams coming true.

Sadly, we had to leave early because I still had to write an entire article for The Daily Tar Heel while stoned.

swerve@dailytarheel.com