Last year, I wrote a summer dispatch and signed off with the final line “Now, I’m off to buy my ticket for next year. See you at the farm in 2025!” When I wrote that, I had no idea what was to come.
Bonnaroo, a four-day music and arts festival in Tennessee, is always my favorite part of the summer. I go with some friends — mostly people my boyfriend met in college — and we revel in the in the energy of the festival, despite the tent-camping and baking heat of it all. We typically get there to set up on Tuesday, two days before the official beginning of the festival.
While there are annoying moments — including the sunburn I got in the couple of hours it took to set up our camp — the days on the farm are the best of the summer. This year was my third year attending Bonnaroo, and I thought that it would be the best yet: headliners like Luke Combs; Tyler, the Creator; Olivia Rodrigo; and Hozier made me feel like the lineup was especially curated for me. I was most excited for Hozier; I had been waiting years for the chance to see him live.
Going into the festival, my group was beyond excited. From pop to country to rap to EDM, Bonnaroo brings something for everyone. Everyone in my group had at least a handful of artists they wanted to see.
My group — seven in total — arrived at the farm on Tuesday morning. We waited in the security line for hours until we were finally directed to our spot. We were surprisingly close to the arch, the main entrance to “Centeroo,” the part of the farm that holds most of the major performances — a lucky thing, as some have to walk close to an hour to get to a main entrance.
Throughout Tuesday and Wednesday, we set up our camp, wandered around the farm, looked at the shops, and got to know our camping neighbors.
One of our favorite things to do is attend shows at the House of Yes; this year they put on a two-part show consisting of “Roolesque,” a drag burlesque show, and “Wet Nightmare,” a collection of weird and intentionally slightly uncomfortable acts, such as a girl dressed as a clown poking needles through a remarkably real-looking latex bodysuit. The House of Yes is a gem of the week — it’s unapologetically weird, queer, and accepting of all.
The next day marked the official start of the festival, but I was only interested — and only somewhat — in seeing Luke Combs that day. Though I was never a huge fan of his, I’ll admit that he put on an incredible show.
And then, right as we reached the weekend, it all fell apart.

The Bonnaroo arch communicates to festival goers that the Centeroo stage is closed due to weather.
Mackenzie Hollingsworth / The Daily Princetonian
On Friday, it started raining — and lightning storming. A lightning spotting within a certain radius of the festivities stops the show, to be restarted only after the lightning ceases for 25 minutes. The rain lasted for hours on Friday, so we had to lower our canopies, sit in our cars, and hope for the end of the storm — despite missing some exciting performances scheduled for that afternoon, we hoped to catch Tyler, the Creator that night.
Eventually, the rain and lightning stopped, but the farm was flooded. Manchester, Tenn. had seen a lot of rain in the weeks leading up to Bonnaroo, and the rain that day pushed things to the edge. On my way to the restroom on Friday afternoon, I walked through a patch of water at least five inches deep — not ideal for sandals — and saw multiple camps submerged in water.

But despite the puddles in our campsite, my group held strong. There was no way, we thought, that the festival would possibly cancel a headliner as big as Tyler — we just needed to wait out the rain.
But around 8 p.m., 3 hours before the show, a girl in our group said that they had cancelled the rest of Bonnaroo.
We didn’t believe her, until she showed us a Facebook post that confirmed that the entire rest of the festival was cancelled. We’d be spending the remainder of our weekends at home, with no Tyler, the Creator, no Olivia Rodrigo, and no Hozier.
At least, the Facebook post confirmed, we’d be getting a 75 percent refund for all tickets and parking passes bought directly through Front Gate Tickets, an amount that was bumped up to a full refund after backlash from attendees.
We left that Friday night in chaos. Since the festival was canceled, many volunteer workers simply stopped working. Without most workers or people directing traffic, we managed to get off the farm only after a few hours of waiting in line. During this time, I saw very little communication from Live Nation, which owns a controlling stake in the festival — it felt as if they announced the cancellation and then clocked out for the day.
“Are you planning to go next year?” my family asked me as I returned days early.
Yes, despite how unfortunate it all was this year, I’m sure I’ll be back in 2026.
I love meeting the people of Bonnaroo. Our campsite neighbor helped my boyfriend get his car started after his battery died and he didn’t have any jumper cables. After we forgot seasonings for our burgers, another neighbor lent us theirs. People drift in and out of our camp, stopping by to say hello and introduce themselves. It is these interactions with people that I’d never otherwise meet that keeps me coming back.
The positive energy and atmosphere is indestructible: Attendees still said “Happy Roo” to anyone passing by after the cancellation was announced, and people started using the flooded portions of the farm as a slip ’n slide.
Even though Bonnaroo was cancelled, the heart and soul of the festival remained with the people trying to spread positivity and good vibes. There will always be another year to see the main acts, too.
Mackenzie Hollingsworth is a head editor for The Prospect. She is a member of the Class of 2026 and can be reached at mh5273[at]princeton.edu.
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