The door to our hotel room slowly clicked open at 5 a.m.
I grumpily shifted in my sleep on June 14, 2008 as I heard my brother Steve creep into the DoubleTree hotel room. He quietly tried not to wake Brian and me after spending all night at Bonnaroo, but I was already up.
After opening both eyes, I saw his feet and legs were covered in mud, while the smell of sweat, rain and humid Tennessee air filled the room.
“Are you just getting back now?” I asked.
Steve triumphantly looked at me and said, “Yes, My Morning Jacket played for four hours in the rain at Bonnaroo tonight. It was one of the best live shows I’ve ever seen.”
“Was it really worth staying out all night?” I asked.
“It was. You guys should have stayed,” Steve said.
“No artist is worth standing in the rain for four hours in the middle of the night to watch,” I said.
“Your loss,” Steve said with a victorious smile.
“Whatever,” I tiredly muttered and rolled my eyes as I went back to sleep.
Sadly, he was right. It’s not often I admit that, especially since I’m the younger sibling. (Steve will do a victory dance when he reads this part.)
I didn’t reflect back on that memory until two years later when I stood in the rain at My Morning Jacket’s May 2, 2010 show at Lifestyle Communities Pavilion in Columbus, Ohio.