A Rockfest veteran’s take on Kansas City’s biggest one-day festival
After last year’s filthy, muddy and miserable rock festival at Liberty Memorial, I vowed the next Monday at work that I was done with 98.9 the Rock’s Rockfest.
“Fuck that mess. I couldn’t even walk around. Everyone was ankle-deep in mud,” I explained to my co-workers. They smiled and nodded, knowing that I would return in 2011 because, for punishment like that, I am a glutton.
At the time of my first Rockfest, I stood in awe of the pure volume of people. It was a feast for the eyes: exposed skin, trash, trashy tattoos, drinking, and people writhing on the ground, on their ass from the heat and possible psilocybin use. This weekend, though, it felt a lot different. I guess I’m getting old and jaded, but the whole thing felt a little — well — off.