... at Chastain Park in Atlanta. On Saturday night, after my volunteer stint for 'help the 'hooch'. We had purchased tickets months ago. I was looking forward to an evening of raucous and rowdy music.The daughter in Decatur was going (actually she was the instigator, planning to take me, as I would surely get lost out there in the dark.) Then she had a conflict, and could not attend. Whereupon, a cousin was lured into using the ticket,
I have not been up to Chastain in many years - before the era of GPS helping to find the way. In reality, I could have gotten myself there and back -but where's the fun in that? There was huge crowd, all happy to see Willie and his honky-tonkin' crew. A beautiful evening in the amphitheater under the open sky. Too much light pollution from the city to see more than a few stars (and a constant stream of airliners arriving and departing from Hartsfield-Jackson miles to the south), but pleasantly cool for some rollicking entertainment.
Lots of imbibing going by attendees, who had brought picnics, tiny tables, candles for ambience. Coolers for beer/wine, plates of party fare, stemware, tablecloths, frou-frou, as any real garden party should have. And us: with our little paper sacks from Chic-fil-A. Good music, good company, good fun. And, quite surprising to me - I did detect the odor of burning pot at all. How completely uncharacteristic for a Willie Nelson concert!
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