Yes, rain. And sleet. And lightning. And thunder. And hail. Lots of it. Piling on the ground. Putting the shows out of commission. It was cold and miserable for the rest of the night, but did we wuss out? Did we retreat to a hot, dry hearth with a glass of warm brandy? No, we did not (as much as we wanted to). We stuck it the fuck out to see the Flaming Lips (because My Ride is a Flaming Lips aficionado).

In the aftermath, some people sledded down the grassy hill on garbage bags, lots of people left, and Common Market rocketed up onto my Coolest Dudes Ever list. While the audience was still checking to see if any of its digits had been severed by an enormous hail-ball and Neko’s set was busy getting cancelled and the electricity was out everywhere, someone drove a car onto the grass by the stage where RA Scion, Our Lovable Emcee (OLÉ!), was scheduled to perform. The car doors opened, a CD of beats was played, and OLÉ took off, rapping on the grass to a car stereo for a small circle of people. In the proud tradition of hiphop-as-the-new-folk, OLÉ did his set despite inclement everything. And then he hooked up with his DJ who scratched it out under a tent set up by 107.7 on their crappy lil’ speakers. Way to improvise, RA Scion. (And I heard you were very politic with the drunk, shirtless white boy who wanted to get in an emcee battle and then engage in fisticuffs while you were rapping. Hooray for you.)

Tim Seeley also did well, getting up on one of the smaller stages sans his band and playing acoustic while he instructed the crowd to mouth out the electric riffs.

The Tragically Hip came on after the storm and freaked the fuck out, screaming, chanting, and slithering around the stage. I couldn’t tell if they were kidding, but the bizarre catharsis was just what we needed post-storm. TTH has never been on my radar, but they recalled me of some celebrity honky-tonk in Texas where Michael Stipe might rock out with Rob Zombie. In the middle of one song about courage, the singer berated his courage for having abandoned him at a crucial moment: ”You ain’t good-lookin’, Courage! So you’d better be on time!”

”I want to kick Ben Harper in the throat,” My Ride said. Turns out that in the weather delay, it was decided that headliner Ben Harper (booooo-ring!) would actually play before the Flaming Lips. (Because the Ben Harper guys had a tighter schedule or something and had to get out of there.) So the Lips were stuck going on at midnight, just about the time the Ben Harper set, the final set was supposed to be finishing up. Harper kept going and going and going and going while we stood on a steep, soaked, freezing hill, waiting for the Lips and grumbling. I think he played his full two-hour set, which seemed rude under the circumstances.

The Flaming Lips covered Bohemian Rhapsody. I’m glad I stayed for that, even though I’m still not sure I can feel my feet. Sorry, My Ride, for sleeping most of the way back to Seattle.