ACL muddy, fun

Austin City Limits (ACL for friends) music festival happened on Oct. 2-4 at Zilker Park. But who doesn't know that? With the number of billboards all over downtown Austin and on the pedicabs (those little carriages ridden by actual people that look too much like slave work, despite the green initiative), only the most distracted Austinites and temporary residents were not aware of the concert until the first week of October.
The ones that really didn't (seriously, under what rock do they live?), for sure found out on Oct. 2. After all, it is very hard to ignore the absurd amount of busses with "Austin City Limits" written on the side. The initiative of offering a whole day free shuttle to all that who were going to the festival was a smart one. It helped people avoid traffic jams, parking problems and the possible accident caused by alcohol intoxicated drivers.
On that first day, the sky wasn't blue, but it was hot nevertheless, and very humid. With the crazy autumn weather, a day without pouring rain was the best the Austin City Limits goers could hope for. But, that was just the first day.
The crowd was eclectic with mothers with their baby carriages, children of all shapes and sizes, senior citizens (some of them looking like they could have been in Woodstock) but, of course, the majority of the crowd was composed of college students.
Everybody was dressed as if they were going to the beach. Shorts, flip-flops, baseball caps and sunglasses in all shapes and colors were featured on the green, velvety "catwalk". T-shirts with funny sayings or some band's tour schedule on the back were pervaded the festival.
Add all the people sitting in folding chairs or blankets, and the only thing missing to make that day a perfect "going to the beach day" would be sand and salt water. Other beach paraphernalia, like sun block smell and tiny bikini tops were there. But, of course, the main attraction wasn't palm shade or sand castles, but the bands.
The first day was so packed with internationally recognize bands and artists that it was difficult for anybody to decide between, for example, The Crocked Vultures and Andrew Bird (the person who made the schedule sure had a sense of humor, provoking a cockfight for audience between the two "feathered" bands) or Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Kings of Leon.
It was difficult to get a good spot if one of the excellent bands finished a show just when another amazing band started to play at another stage (especially for the fans who are only 5 foot 3). 
The most enthusiastic fans just had to come earlier and camp (almost literally) in front of the stage in order to guarantee a good view of the artists. Disregarding the patience and commitment required to stand (or sit) under the greenhouse effect sun for more than an hour, once the concerts did start, the audience was awfully still, behaving like tone-deaf zombies. There was no jumping around, no singing at the top of the lungs, no going crazy. The connections between artists and appreciators just got lost somewhere between the stage and the green grass.
The few ones that did seem to be truly enjoying the performances looked like lunatics: shaking it, playing air guitar and air drums, singing with the lyrics and mimicking the instruments sounds as if their lives depended on it. But they were so few and far apart, a singer or two may have gotten really disappointed. No wonder a lot of American artist fall in love with foreign, overenthusiastic fans.
Contributing to the overall stillness of the crowd were the freshly self-designated "space" deputies: mostly huge young adults that both blocked the view and the way of those few enthusiastic fans who aren't as vertically blessed as them and just wanted to take a glimpse of the gig while simultaneously cracking bad jokes and offended people who wanted to go by. Who gave them a badge anyway?
That green, hot and quiet day was just the first one. The pouring rain that started to fall over Austin on Oct. 3, before ACL's gates where even opened, and haunted the crowd until Sunday didn't, however, managed to ruin the mood of those who went for the music and for the fun. In fact, the rain made those who were umbrella covered, dressed in impermeable ponchos (or plastic garbage bags, in the case of the people who missed the weather report) and holding their muddy shoes in their hands wake up from the dead.
The second day had big music names, but none of them huge like Kings of Leon on the first day or Pearl Jam on the last, nevertheless the crowd had fun under the nasty weather. The muddy floor prevented the lazy from lying down on their blankets or sunbathing on their foldable chairs. There was no sun. Not having anything better to do, they walked closer to the stages and watched the bands.
On Oct. 4, the rain stopped falling. One might have expected the grass to be dry, but the emerald green, velvety grass from the first day had completely disappeared. Zilker Park looked like it had been attacked by an angry buffalo herd overnight, and it didn't smelled much better than buffalo fertilizer either.
The rain boots were the new trend, but most of the music appreciators had their shoes on one of their hands and mud up to their thighs. Some looked disgusted, others just tried to enjoy the music despite the fertilizer, dirt and straw goo they were stepping on and a third group just forgot about basic hygiene and dived, head first, on it.
The innocent bystander might have thought "did I buy tickets for a trash horror movie instead of the concert for a music concert I wanted to go to?" because of the astonishing quantity of mythic monsters among them; first the zombies, then the muddy people. At the end, isn't it all entertainment? Be it a gig or a horror show, what really matter is the fun people had, and people sure had fun at the ACL.