Going into the Cstone season this year, I felt as if the fest had run its course. Many of my friends and bands I like had chosen not to go after the gloominess of last year and the rather disappointing schedule for this year. To top it all off, my son, who’s attended every fest with me since 98 when he was 2, was going to be on a school trip in Europe. All the signs pointed to Cstone going out with a whimper. That being said, I wasn’t going to miss the last one and actually they were counting on me a volunteer as well.
Fast forward to a couple weeks before Cstone and a buddy of mine from work learned that he could actually make a couple days of the fest and it would be his first, so that would be cool, showing my beloved Cstone to a newby.
For me, entering the gates year after year brings the feeling of coming home and this year was no different. What I did notice though was the relative lack of music tents and Port-a-potties. Yeah, I said Port-a-potties. See, for the last few years, I’ve been blessed to work with Mountain Man Steve Brown and restock all the Port-a-potties, twice a day. So all you attendees, I was part of the crew keeping Cstone safe for your pooping.