Jazz Fest is supposed to be one of the greatest concerts all year but it turned out New Orleans is a city better suited for secrets.
Senior year at Memphis University had been rough on both of Dylan and me and now that our soccer season was over we took the opportunity to do something fun and unwind. We met on the soccer field freshman year where there was an instant bond. Both of us were on scholarship and it was our first time away from home. Our team did okay, Dylan was our star forward and I backed him up in middle field. I played his wingman all the time but never minded and he never made me feel less than. Hell, it even worked at the bar picking up girls since they always seem to travel in pairs.
Dylan was without a doubt better looking than me with a deep coastal tan, shaggy dark hair, and light blue eyes; he was almost pretty and girls lost their minds over him. At 6' I was still an inch shorter than my friend but I was more heavily muscled than him. I had a light complexion that made me look like I'd never seen the sun.
I never felt confident around girls so Dylan's looks worked well for me because I was always there to grab anyone left over after he paired up for the night. Girls and sports were the easy part but grades were another matter. We both struggled and barely kept our averages high enough to stay on the team, but now that the season was over we knew our grades were enough to pass and it was time to let go.
Neither of us had been to New Orleans before and Jazz Fest was not what we expected. We knew some of the headliners, like the Who and the Black Crowes, but we were most excited to hear local music from Zydeco bands. New Orleans always made me think of Mardi Gras and parades and the French Quarter but Jazz Fest isn't in the Quarter, it's on the Fairgrounds in the middle of the city. However, if you think Mardi Gras is the only party there, you wouldn't be more wrong.
Our Uber driver got 5 blocks away before the roads became a parking lot and that was after circling twice, so we got out and followed the crowd down the oak-covered median to the fairgrounds. It was 9 a.m. and even though the thermometer read 76 the humidity made it feel like 96. Both of us pricked with sweat by the time we reached the crush of people at the front gate.
It was a voyeurs paradise as 2 fights broke out before ever being asked for our tickets. The first one happened behind us over what I don't know and we were almost run over as the crowd swayed to give security room. The second started over a guy that insisted they let him bring in his backpack and was resolved when 2 more security guards jumped in. Just surviving the entrance left us feeling like conquering heroes.
Once in the open air, I felt my lungs expand after having been pressed by the crowd. The ground, which looked like it used to be grass now threatened to morph into a giant mud hole should a hard rain come.
"Let's go see Trombone Shorty," Dylan yelled over the crowd.
I wasn't paying attention and didn't hear him so he yelled in my ear. Thankfully his breath still smelled like toothpaste.
The bands were set up poorly all playing at the same time and facing the center of the grounds. Unless you were right in front of a stage it was hard to distinguish one sound from another, but I finally heard him and we made our way to the Shell stage.
Dylan wasted no time finding a couple of local girls who promised to show us around the city later that night. The girls were beautiful and I didn't understand leaving them but we left just to wander around and hopefully find some food.
The food smelled amazing and I was looking forward to tasting Cajun food I'd heard so much about but Dylan just kept walking.
"Hey, where are we going?" I asked as we passed up the last food stand.
"I saw vendors selling shirts and different shit. I want to see if I can find something to bring the girls tonight to tell them thanks for showing us around." He shouted, walking at a hard pace.
We passed by every vendor known to man, t-shirts, jewelry, posters, blankets, even glow sticks and we stopped at all of them. It was close to 11 now and without shade, the heat battled my hunger for attention.
"That's enough," I told him as Dylan looked again at overpriced necklaces. "It's hot and I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat."
Dylan agreed and it was probably a good thing. The vendor was a bear of a man and didn't look happy about Dylan fidgeting with all of his things.
We left and wandered through a section of vendor tents yet to be opened. Dylan was trying to tell me something but I couldn't understand because the music had become deafening. However, I was more hungry than concerned about what he said.
Dylan wasn't more than a step in front of me when I saw a fist lash out blasting him into one of the tents. I didn't have time to process what just happened let alone react before I felt a blade against my neck and that same bear of a vendor was forcing me into the tent he'd just knocked Dylan in.
The thick canvas walls of the tent offered protection from the noise outside and had it not been for the situation I might have appreciated the cooler temperature. However, Dylan was lying unconscious on his back in a pile of grass, and I had a knife against my throat.
"You 2 motherfuckers think you can just steal from me?" He asked in a rough voice.
"No, sir," I said confused and certain he had the wrong people. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The necklace dumbass; I saw you're buddy take it." He emphasized 'dumbass' by pulling the knife closer against my neck.
"I swear to you, I don't know what you're talking about." My voice was shaking. Even if this was all a mistake I still worried what this lunatic would do.
"Empty your pockets." He commanded.
I pulled the pockets out of my shorts letting my wallet and cell phone fall to the ground.
"Empty his pockets." He commanded, pointing his knife at Dylan.
Dylan never stirred as I pulled out his cell phone, wallet, and hotel key. I looked up hoping he'd see that this was all a mistake and just let us go.
"Humph." He grunted. "It's in there somewhere. Take off his pants"
This was stupid but I was scared, so with shaking hands, I pulled down Dylan's shorts exposing his yellow boxers. I didn't have a chance to look up again before the next command came.
"And the boxers, asshole. You thieving motherfuckers aren't smarter than me."
