My wife and I got the news no parent wants to hear. Our 18-year-old daughter called and spoke the bone chilling words:
"I’m going to Bonnaroo."
Our Woodstock wannabe is a sophomore at Georgia State University and currently working at a restaurant, waiting on tables and learning how mean some people can really act.
One of the guys that works with me is going to Bonnaroo as well, and the responsibility for our daughter’s well-being will fall directly on his shoulders.
"You find her as soon as you get there and don’t let her leave your sight," I told him. "You lose her and you can find a job at the gas station in Manchester."
Whatever happened to going to the movies for the afternoon?