EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – DAY
It’s a hot, sunny June day at Bonnaroo, the annual four-day music festival in rural Tennessee. Indie kids and aging hippies wander by in droves as dust kicks up from the well-traveled ground and music from six stages blends into the air in one giant hum.
MONTAGE
–The LINE OF CARS piles up on Interstate 24, waiting to get in.
–Inside, the “What” stage, the biggest stage on the festival grounds, booms in front of an enormous crowd.
–The “Which” stage, slightly smaller than the “What” stage, is packed nonetheless.
–Foods of all kind are available right near “This Tent,” another venue that looks like an airplane hangar. We see stands labeled “Spicy Pizza,” “Outback Kate’s Grill,” “Sweet Potato Fries,” “Soft-Serve Ice Cream” and “Falafel.”
–A row of twenty or so PORT-A-POTTIES has a line of people waiting for each door to swing open as a port-a-potty cleaning truck ominously appears to set up shit-shop.
–Two FLOWER GIRLS dance in the “Centeroo” fountain. They’re topless, with their BOOBS painted trippy festival colors.
–A bunch of WASTED DUDES are passed out under trees as other fans sit nearby, soaking in the rare piece of shade.
–A GIRL leans next to a cluster of garbage cans and recycling bins, checks to see if anyone’s watching, pulls down her shorts in the back and pees.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – DAY
From the scattershot point of view of a person walking with a hand-held video camera, we travel through the masses on the way to one of the festival tents.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
We find ourselves here every year. My old troublemaking buddies Lasky and Jablow and I have gone to the Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival each June since 2006. We all have wives and children now and we all live in different parts of the country, so these four days each summer pretty much represent the only time we get to hang out. We don’t do much except listen to music and sweat. Lasky and Jablow get high a lot. I don’t.
LASKY, a slight-of-build, unshaven hippie with a Grateful Dead tank top, cargo shorts and a star tattoo on the back of his neck, passes a pipe to JABLOW, who’s shirtless, spectacled and watching something else in the distance. Lasky smacks Jablow on the shoulder. Jablow turns around, grabs the pipe, and takes a big hit before coughing.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
There’s always a signature Bonnaroo “moment,” something we’ll remember and reference frequently until we come back the following year. In 2006, it was My Morning Jacket’s thunderous midnight marathon , a performance that might very well have helped send that band into the stratosphere. In 2007, it was Jablow shouting a request for “Piano Man” during a break in Alexa Ray Joel’s Sonic Stage set. In 2008, it was the eardrum-shattering decibel level of the Raconteurs, and in 2009 it was Band of Horses’ perfect Sunday sunset singalong before we drove back to the Atlanta airport. This year, the moment was waiting to happen. Who knew it would happen so soon?
EXT. PARKING LOT – DAY
TOM, a tall white guy with no other identifiable features, walks toward a typically enormous WAL-MART, although this one somehow seems bigger than any one you’ve ever seen.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
The morning before the festival started, I landed a few hours before Lasky and Jablow, so I decided to do a little shopping.
INT. WAL-MART – DAY
Tom pushes a shopping cart full of items, but he’s not quite finding what he’s looking for.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
I had gotten all the basics: sunscreen, a Frisbee, a cheap coffee maker, filters, coffee and mugs for the hotel room, rain ponchos, a bed sheet to spread out on the lawn, toothpaste, deodorant. But I was missing something. What was it?
Tom ambles down the TOY AISLE and spots a GREEN-AND-BLUE “POOF” BRAND FOAM FOOTBALL.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
Ah, yes. A football. It wouldn’t be Bonnaroo without a football.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – DAY
The football floats through the perfect blue sky. Jablow and Tom throw it back and forth on the LAWN adjacent to the Bonnaroo tent with a big neon sign labeling it THE OTHER TENT as the band Dr. Dog plays their Friday afternoon set in sweltering heat. Plenty of people are seated on blankets or standing nearby watching the music, but the ball is expertly thrown between, around, and over them as Jablow and Tom laugh it up.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
We’d always get a Nerf or, in this case, a Poof football, and toss it around to kill time during bands we either didn’t know or didn’t like. It was a fun diversion. Harmless. At least we thought it was harmless.
As Tom cocks his left wrist back to chuck the ball to Jablow, he notices that his friend is running an ambitious flag pattern that will bring him a bit too close to a GROUP of THREE SHIRTLESS PREPPY-LOOKING GUYS wearing KHAKI SHORTS. Tom still figures he can thread the needle, so he lets it fly.
In slow motion, we watch as the ball slips out of his hand just enough to make him WINCE. He then notices a LARGE WOMAN lounging on a blanket about ten feet in front of where Jablow is running to, which is in turn a few feet in front of the PREPPY GROUP. The ball is about to hit the large woman but seemingly disappears.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – DAY
CLOSE on Tom’s befuddled face. He can’t hide the confusion.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – DAY
QUICK CUT back to the area where the ball landed. Pure chaos, with the ball now resting comfortably in the OPEN BACK of a BLOND PREPPY’S BACKPACK as his friends crowd around. From Tom’s perspective, Jablow and these men appear to be in some kind of argument.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
My first reaction was that the blond guy picked up the ball quickly as it rolled to him, stuffed it in his backpack, and was now telling Jablow he didn’t know anything about a football. You know, just fucking with him for fun. And to be honest, I had to admit that it was a pretty good idea for a goof if that’s what he was doing. Especially considering how stoned and paranoid Jablow probably was at the moment.
Tom hones in on the football, looking ripe for the picking behind the guy’s back as he keeps talking.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
I figured I’d act at that precise moment, walking by like just another dazed Bonnaroo patron, and take the ball back without the guy even noticing. But as soon as I began to move …
Tom begins to move.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
… the whole picture changed.
The blond guy now knowingly pulls the ball out of his backpack and hands it to Jablow. Everyone in the group laughs and smiles. Whatever ruse has been orchestrated is now foiled and everyone’s free to move on with their lives. Except Tom.
TOM (V.O.) (CONT’D)
All of a sudden, the already-forgettable music of Dr. Dog became patently unrecognizable. I couldn’t hear anything but the curiosity bursting from my brain. I had to know what was really going on in this mysterious maelstrom of human interaction.
Tom walks over to Jablow, who’s still laughing.
TOM (to Jablow)
Dude, what just happened?
Jablow laughs again, shaking his head.
JABLOW
Well, it was great.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – MINUTES EARLIER
In a FLASHBACK, we see Tom’s throw from Jablow’s point of view. The ball sails from his hands as Jablow moves to get it, but it’s over his head.
JABLOW (O.S.)
Dude, I don’t know what the percentages of this happening are, but they have to be fuckin’ astronomical. Like you couldn’t have pulled this off if you tried it a thousandtimes. Five thousand, maybe.
In slow motion, the ball BOUNCES off the grass, floats through the air, and lands directly in the open back of the blond preppy guy’s backpack. He doesn’t notice it, and neither do his friends as they stand and talk.
JABLOW (O.S.)
Just think about it. He turns his back a second earlier, no chance of that ball landing in there. He decides to see some other band instead of Dog Day Afternoon …
TOM (O.S.)
Dr. Dog.
JABLOW (O.S.)
Whatever. It’s not important. My point is that this was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. First of all, that ball landing in his bag. That’s incredible enough. And then he doesn’t even notice? I’m telling you. It’s a borderline miracle.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – DAY
Tom and Jablow are back in the present, rehashing the events.
TOM
I agree.
Tom grabs the football and twirls it in his hands.
TOM (CONT’D)
So what happened?
Jablow has a gleam in his eye as he smiles with satisfaction.
JABLOW
I was hoping you’d ask that question.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – MINUTES EARLIER
Sped up back into real time, and again from Jablow’s point of view, the ball bounces off the ground and lands in the preppy guy’s backpack. Jablow sees this and immediately approaches the group. He gathers himself from a quick approach and settles on a casual saunter, smiling innocently.
JABLOW (to the blond guy)
Hey, brother. Do you mind if I borrow your football for like five minutes?
The blond guy has glazed-over red eyes and doesn’t want to be disturbed at the moment. He is briefly taken aback.
BLOND GUY (annoyed)
Huh?
JABLOW (relentless)
I was just asking if I could borrow your football for a bit.
The blond guy has no idea what Jablow is talking about, and neither do the two friends — one wearing a DUKE BLUE DEVILS HAT, one with a BEARD — who are now looking on intently, reeling from this stark assault on their long-awaited, months-in-the-making, Friday afternoon, super-stoned Bonnaroo buzz.
BLOND GUY (even more annoyed)
Dude, I don’t have a football.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – DAY
Back in the present, Jablow laughs again, very proud of himself. Tom laughs, too.
JABLOW
And then it got really good. I got all serious with him since they were so serious.
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – MINUTES EARLIER
The blond guy finishes his sentence, with the angry emphasis on the final word: “football.” Jablow isn’t done yet. He puts on his face the look of the ultimate victim and shoots it at the blond guy like a poisonous dart.
JABLOW (faux-sadly)
Fine, man. Jeez. You know, all I was doing was asking to borrow your football. You don’t have to lie to me and say you don’t have one.
That sets the blond guy over the edge. He considers attacking Jablow but realizes it’s probably not worth it and contains himself for a second although still seething with anger.
BLOND GUY
Dude, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I told you very clearly. I do NOT have a football.
Jablow throws up his hands in mock frustration as the blond guy’s bearded friend feels the need to weigh in.
BEARDED FRIEND
Seriously, man. What is the problem? There’s no football here.
The guy with the hat agrees.
GUY WITH HAT
Yeah, bro. Where do you see a football?
After a pause for more phony exasperation, Jablow backs up a few feet, pulls out his left arm and POINTS dramatically at the blond guy’s backpack without saying a word.
In slow motion and one by one, the blond guy, bearded friend and the guy with the hat all turn their gazes to the backpack, where they discover the football, which clearly displays the “Poof” brand name.
BLOND GUY
What the fuck?
BEARDED FRIEND
Whoa.
Jablow, still with his finger pointing at it and still in character, nods knowingly.
JABLOW
See?
A light bulb goes off for the guy with the hat, who turns to the blond guy.
GUY WITH HAT
Dude, you DO have a football!
EXT. FESTIVAL GROUNDS – DAY
Jablow and Tom laugh and high-five at the completion of the now-epic tale as Lasky shows up.
LASKY
What are you guys laughing about?
TOM
This.
Tom throws Lasky the football. Lasky drops it. Lasky’s confused.
LASKY
Yeah?
JABLOW
Yeah. We’ll tell you later.
Lasky looks at the stage and winces at the music coming from it.
LASKY
What’s this shitty music?
TOM
Dr. Dog Day Afternoon.
LASKY
Let’s go check out She & Him.
JABLOW
Sounds good to me.
Jablow gives one more look to the trio of preppy guys — peaceful in their conversation once again. He turns back to Tom and smiles, knowing that 2010’s signature Bonnaroo moment is in the books. The three troublemakers walk off, back into the current of constantly moving, dusty festival throngs.
FADE OUT
THE END
Find out what’s in Tom’s backpack here …
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I enjoyed your article but felt it necessary to stand up for one of my favorite bands…Dr. Dog DOES NOT suck!
well written story with a great twist.