Written by: Allison Toth

Sooo…Bonnaroo 2025… 

We pulled into the farm around 1 p.m. on Thursday, and our group was buzzing with excitement. We were a mix of Bonnaroo veterans and first-timers, so as you can imagine, the energy bouncing through our crew was electric. I was ready for my first ever Bonnaroo, and we were all gearing up for the best weekend of the summer. 

Now, if you were at Bonnaroo 2025 and you’re reading this blog, this is probably the part where you go, “HA! RIGHT…” because you already know how this story ends. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. 

Thursday night was magic. 

Between our first glimpse of the Infinity Stage and my first ever bite of festival food (which absolutely slaps, by the way), I was in heaven. We hopped around Centeroo and spent the late night walking the campgrounds, hunting for “Take One, Leave One” boxes so I could continue building my rubber duck collection— something I take very seriously, for your information. 

Around 2 a.m., I turned to the group: “Should we get a good night’s rest so we can feel good the rest of the weekend?” 

Little did we know… 🫠

We slept peacefully as waves of rain soaked Centeroo and Outeroo. By morning, the group woke up in great spirits, and we began prepping for the day. I walked around our site, admiring all the hard work we’d put into setup and organization. Around midday, the rain returned—twice as intense. We sat under our canopy laughing about how wild it was getting, having approximately zero clue what we were actually in for. 

My boyfriend went back to the tent around 4 to take a quick nap, and I sat outside with friends, still watching the storm. When the rain let up briefly, I ran to the bathroom as fast as humanly possible, trying to beat the next downpour. That’s when I heard the news. 

“We are beyond gutted, and we must make the safest decision,” my friend Cole read from his phone.

I knew immediately—just from the tone of his voice. 

NO!! No, no, no. This is my first Bonnaroo. It can’t be over like this. We JUST got here. 

My second thought was about Jackson, my boyfriend—the man who lives for Bonnaroo week and his time on the farm. Talk about the world’s worst alarm clock. The group was quiet. No one moved or spoke as we tried to process the news that Roo was canceled. We looked around at our neighbors to see how they were taking it. And that’s exactly when it hit me. 

Our neighbors (for the most part) seemed bummed—but far from defeated. Drinks were poured. Trinkets and beers were handed out by people walking by. And when the sun went down, the renegade sets fired up. Loads of them. You could hear the music across the entire campground. Somehow, just hours after the announcement, I watched the Bonnaroo community come back to life. 

Thousands of us were still there, and we all shared one goal: to enjoy this last night together, however that looked. 

One thing about ravers that I love? Our innate ability to make fun out of the worst conditions. If you’ve been going to festivals or shows for a while, you already know: shit HAPPENS. Sets get canceled. Rain delays. Overbooked venues. Broken air conditioners. Drinks spill. People forget deodorant. 

Festivals are so many things—but perfect is never one of them. 

And for that, I’m actually grateful. 

I don’t go to raves to have a picture-perfect experience. I go to have the absolute time of my life with other freaky little gremlins like me. I go for the side quests, the serendipitous run-ins, and those moments that can’t be put into words. 

Anyway, back to the story. This next part is where things get even crazier. After evacuating, we made the impulsive decision to drive to Nashville instead of heading home—for some dancing, distraction, and healing. Judging by the $250+ motel rooms, we were definitely not the only ones with that idea. 

Nashville, Tennessee, of all places, was FLOODED with EDM and festival lovers. Rooftop bars were packed with swarms of people straight off the farm—arms full of kandi, still wearing wristbands for the weekend we were supposed to have. Bonnaroo merch was somehow ironic and iconic at the same time. 

Crankdat and GorillaT (among others) played pop-up sets that gave us bummed out Roo-goers one more chance to party under the lasers. We didn’t score tickets ourselves, but friends said the sets were amazing. 

Instead, we spent hours on rooftop bars where—not one, but two—places started playing dubstep. Normally I avoid bars because they never quite match the vibe of the dance floor, but this was completely different. People were walking around with totems, draped in pashminas, holding their heads high like royalty. And as we were headbanging and throwing back vodka Red Bulls, the realization hit me again this time, louder. 

I. LOVE. THIS. COMMUNITY. 

So. Freaking. Much. 

We got back to the hotel around 3 a.m., but the next morning I saw Snapchat stories of a sunrise set—on the pedestrian bridge. My friend Dylan Pezold-Reichard aka STL duck guy was there and told me:

“Watching people pass by on their morning commute or runs was incredible. So many people wondering what was going on. Wooks everywhere. Some businesses even gave us discounts just for having our Bonnaroo wristbands.” 

Moral of the story? 

Bonnaroo 2025 wasn’t what I hoped for—but the energy and love of the Roo community exceeded anything I could’ve imagined.

When it was time to leave the farm, I saw people helping each other left and right. Every time a car got stuck in the mud, six strangers would jump out of nearby vehicles to help push. This community didn’t just show up—we embodied PLUR in a way I can’t even fully explain. 

Looking back now, it’s kind of surreal. Despite being dealt a shitty hand, the Bonnaroo community came together and turned that soggy weekend into 

unforgettable memories. We could’ve gone home and sulked in the post-Roo blues—but we didn’t. That collective refusal to let the weekend be a waste? It gave us Nashville. It gave us magic. It gave us each other. 

I still wish we could’ve spent our full weekend on the farm. But when I look back now, I don’t feel sad. Because even though I didn’t get to have my first full weekend at Bonnaroo…I did get to headbang on a rooftop in Nashville with a hundred other ravers. 

And I think that’s something I’ll always remember, too.