Nine years later, I discovered that the essence is the same. I think I reverted to being 23 years old when I crossed the entrance gate. Maybe it’s more like 27 because the kids did require some accountability.
Immediately, the kids were pestering us to trek up to kids hill. “It closes at 8 pm, you know” was all my nephew would say. I’m not sure if kids hill has changed or if I was just so oblivious in my irresponsible days. Either way, kids hill rocks! They had kids’ music, crafts, and activities. The only problem was that the kids did not want to leave. Fortunately, it’s right up the hill from the dance pavilion allowing me to do some clogging while keeping an eye on them.
Friday, after putting the kids to bed and my sister returned from her turn at irresponsibility, I headed up to the dance pavilion. I couldn’t find anyone I knew but it didn’t matter because I’ve been waiting 9 years for the Cajun hoedown. It was especially pleasing that last year they doubled the dance floor. It didn’t take long before those extra layers of warmth I put on to fight the 50 deg F weather seemed unnecessary, but you wouldn’t have caught me wearing some of the sun dresses I saw there. Those kids must of had a lot more anti-freeze than I’d had.
I’m not sure why but I never watch more than about five minutes of the whole weekend of the musicians on the main stage. As a result, I missed the head lining band absolutely tank. Not a problem for me because I was crushing on The Wild Turkeys playing on the 2nd stage at the same time. Gotta love the ol’ suitcase as a base drum idea. I’d pay to listen to these guys again, not to mention getting to eye up Uncle Whiskey sittin’ in the rocking chair looking as cool as Don Draper.
Quite unpredictably, I ended the evening eating deep fried pickles. Yes, most certainly better than eating a regular pickle but I doubt I’ll have another one. That is, until Slimey buys some at Wheatland again next year.
Saturday, rain turned our Wheatland into a Wetland. But, you can’t keep a good girl from watching The Corn Fed Girls. It probably didn’t hurt that they played under a gigantic tent. I might be biased since I know several of the band members but they have a great sound. It was disappointing that their time got cut short and Ira didn’t sing.
In the evening, after the rain had passed, it was time for one more dance before the kiddos bedtime. We got resistance from all of them. If I had to change something it would be our camp location. A bit too long of a walk but the camp location of our college years isn’t suitable for families or anyone who wants to sleep a few minutes.
Still, we coerced, I mean, convinced the kids to go up for honkey-tonk dancing. Alas, there was no dancing for those kids because an abundance of festival goers turned up to watch Delilah dance on her stand up base. I worked the kids right up in front so that they could sit and watch. K-man, who loves a good guitar, was transfixed when Delilah and The Lost Boys started playing. I had to beg the others to stay a little longer because K-man was having such a good time. We left too soon to see the famous Delilah dance on her base.
Not too long after, the kids and my sister were settled in bed leaving me to dance till 2 am. I took several trips around the dance floor with my good friend, Slimey. I won’t mention how at one point we both ended up on the floor in front of dozens of groaning on-lookers.
Besides the kids getting tired earlier than expected, Wheatland went exactly as I thought it would. Maybe better because the old friends really seemed to value the time we had together. I’m really looking forward to next year and hoping it doesn’t turn into Wetland again.