Senseless Optimism is both the name of an opening band, and the element I ride into Boston Calling with on Day 2. And I do mean ride: I cruise in on a Blue Bike for Day 2.
With a dock in front of Boston Calling at the Harvard Athletic Complex, it is both the fastest and cheapest way to get there this time. And being as Boston Calling is where you create your own schedule, it makes sense to do so even on the way in. Trekking to activities on two wheels guarantees a smile, and I carried that in with me too along with ice cold lemon water handed in the front of the gate.
The author biking into Boston Calling
In the festival grounds, it’s a cowboy kind of love day; “I came for the red white and blue Miller hats,” and I wore my cowboy boots to pair them with kind of day. It is light, breezy, and airy. It is comfortable. It is familiar. It is fun. And it is fueled by Dunkin’ Munchkins.
If Day 1 was the initiation, Day 2 felt like we were members of an exclusive and fun new club. And like Day 1, hydration is the name of the game. In the case of Liquid Death, both are true: this was a literal country club activation, beckoning patrons into the country club with a “sell your soul!” chant, or a soul in one opportunity. Day 2 was a day of reckoning…I mean beckoning (we are talking about death here). Have you ever texted “sell my soul” to a stranger? Well now you have! Once inside, a soundtrack of instrumental stringed covers a la Bridgerton accompanied fresh new flavors of Liquid IV, AirBrush Tattoos, Horrorscopes, and a Dead Phone Charging station.
I sold my soul to get into the Liquid Death Country Club
As I leave the tiny cottage serving as the country club, a fiddle beckons me to green stage. More specifically, the notes belong to The Castellows’ cover of the overwhelmingly fitting “I’m Shipping Up To Boston” cascade over the light crowd and invite me to join. It is called Boston Calling after all. We only have seven songs out right now,” the lead singer shared.
The Castellows play in between Miller Red White and Blue cowboy hats.
There is genuine joy here. From the audience enjoying the sweet beats of Cake Swag to the smiles of the La Jefe Taqueria chefs providing us with a tasting menu to the staff. We wear smiles, not exhaustion, and we make friends easily. Again, we carry senseless optimism.
At 5:00pm, there are more people coming in than leaving. With delight on my face and in the air, fueled up with Jersey Mike’s subs and tacos, I hop on a Blue Bike and cycle out early. I know that Sunday will be a monstrous day, and not of the famous Fenway green variety.
