What Happens When Phish-Loving, Post-60s Hippies Transcend Covid-19 in a Quest for Zest? A 1980s Mall-Culture Takeover.

I'm always up for something new. "Crandall, it's $80 per car, they'll have food trucks, and every other parking space is left open so people can socially distance. It's hippie music. The band is tight, but the singing is bad. Don't laugh. You should come. You'll enjoy it."

Chitunga and I came - rode the same van. There were no food trucks. The band was good, the singing was bad. But there was a Chipotles. Gotta love Chipotles.

The concert, Creamery Station, was held in a dilapidated mall parking lot (Sears, to be exact). The crowd looked like Grateful Dead meets Woodstock,  ready to go with their bright, rainbow lit everything. We were scared to sneak in margaritas, but as soon as we pulled in, it was a field of pot smoke. People would care less about our Gatorade bottles snuck in the mini-van. The crowd was mostly 60+, graying Baby Boomer types, with long flowing skirts, tie-dyed face masks, and the desire to get stoned and dance. It was an atmosphere that said, "This is how we've always chosen to live out lives."

In the middle of a Mall parking lot. At dusk. Cops everywhere. No arrests. It's been a long time since I've been to a concert like this - since Phish in Louisville, I believe. Reminded me a lot of my Lollapalooza days and Horde festivals in my 20s. A sea of people dancing with hoola-hoops, glow-sticks, and flashing lights.

By 9 p.m. we were out. We only made it through two songs in the second set, and now I can scratch this off my bucket list (mostly because it was never on my bucket list in the first place). Chitunga got us Chipotle. That wins every time. Chipotle. A burrito!

And I watched this crowd thinking, "Hmmm...who would ever think a scene like this would occur in 2020?" 

Humans are so weird. I love every second of it.