First and foremost, if anyone saw Friday's post, thought, “Gee, the Great American Food and Music Fest sounds like a ton of fun,” and actually attended (or attempted to do so), I am so, so sorry. I bow my head in shame. I wear sack cloth. I prostrate myself, begging your forgiveness. And, if we ever meet in person, the first cold and frosty two (because one wouldn’t be enough) are on me.

What a clusterfest! What an unmitigated freakin’ failure! What a titanic screw-up! What an epic disaster – think The Ten Commandments from the Pharaoh’s point of view!!!

Mackie didn’t really want to go but she went because I wanted to and she was a good sport. Every step of the way, she questioned if it was wise to continue and I insisted that we soldier onward. Now, I’m due to hear “I told you so” for a month of Sundays and every one will have been well earned.

The first hint of trouble came when we were shunted over a dirt road so we could pay $15 to park in a lot closer to Milpitas than Shoreline Amphitheater, the venue. As we hiked in, a guy passing us wondered aloud why we were paying so much to park in a field so far from the food. “Onward,” I said.

The next omen was more than a hint, it was a slap in the face. Two women walking against the pedestrian flow reported that the payment system had failed, that vendors couldn’t accept cash, that the food lines were over an hour long and that the portions were small. They said that they’d requested and received a refund. Mackie questioned the wisdom of proceeding. “Onward,” I said, “I want to see for myself.”

After more walking, we came to a stop. Was this the ticket line? The will call line? Mackie secured a spot while I strode forward to check. It’s what??? A freakin’ line to cross the street??? Yes, peeps, that’s exactly what it was. I was beginning to sense a failure of epic proportions but I was committed and, if this truly going to be the train wreck I was starting to suspect, I wanted to witness it first-hand. After all, as the Restaurant Whore said, “bitching...a sucktastic experience is one of [my] favorite things to do.” I brushed off Mackie’s objections. “Onward,” I insisted.

After we picked up our tickets at will call and found the right entry gate, I heard something that should have chilled me to the bone. A Shoreline employee cried loudly, “The line for refunds is over here!” If I needed any more confirmation of impending disaster, that was it. But, by now, I was on a mission. Mackie rolled her eyes. “Onward,” I cried, more determined than ever.

Entering confirmed our worst fears. The place was a madhouse. People waiting in lines everywhere. For what? Hard to tell as there weren’t any maps to tell you what vendors were where!!! Mackie wanted to leave (sensible girl that she is) but I begged just a little more time to check it out. We found the Pink’s stand. She declared her intent to score a dog from them. I was due to meet up with some Foodbuzz types. I left Mackie in the Pink’s line. “Onward,” I declared once more.

Here, the lack of mapage proved to be an issue. The Foodbuzz peeps were in the wine tent. Sans carte, I had to do the one thing no self-respecting guy every wants to do – ask directions. Worse, collective cluelessness had infected the staff so I had to subject myself to this humiliation several times before getting an answer. “Go up to that stage, turn left, go out the gate into the parking lot and it’s in a tent out there.” Problem was between “that stage” and me were innumerable lines of hungry people waiting for food, lines that ran perpendicular to my required path. But, I’d told 'em I’d be there and rudeness was not an option. “Onward,” I told myself, plunging into the crowd.

I stumbled upon two women eating barbeque, about the first people I'd seen in possession of food. I asked them how long was the line? More than an hour, they informed me. And, the portion looked to be stingy. More bad omens. "Onward," I thought, with waning conviction.

I pushed through the crowds and saw no sign of the gate to the wine tent. I again humiliated myself by asking for directions, this time from a guy who looked like a roadie. He gave very clear, precise (and, as it turned out, accurate) directions. Of course, the way again led me through a plethora of lines running across my route. "Onward, once more into the breach," I mentally gasped.

I repeated, "Excuse, me. Excuse, me, thank you, excuse me," as a mantra. I feared for my physical well-being if anyone thought I was trying to cut line. Finally, I was clear. I made my way through the gate, found the wine tent and entered. I quickly found my Foodbuzz buds or, more accurately, they found me. "We have reserved seats at the food/wine pairing session. Let's go," they suggested. "Onward," I said, fortified by thoughts of food and drink. (Aside to Foodbuzz, thanks again for the tickets, you did a nice thing, the problems weren't yours.)

@kikithedinosaur ran into the guy running the session. He informed us that the first session would be a food and wine pairing without the food. Say what??? No food at a food/wine pairing??? You've got to be joking!!! Assuring the group that food would be available at later sessions, the collective decision was to wait.

But, I was beyond waiting. I'd like to say that I chose to advance in a different direction but let's face it. I was defeated. I was in full retreat. I bid adieu to the Foodbuzz folks and went in search of my beloved Mackie. I noticed a nearby gate to get back into the main venue. A gate VERY CLOSE to the spot where I'd originally asked for directions to the wine tent. A gate VERY, VERY CLOSE to the spot where I'd been told, "Go up to that stage, turn left..." A FREAKIN' GATE THAT WOULD HAVE ALLOWED ME TO AVOID THE FREAKIN' JOURNEY THOUGH THE CROWDS ENTIRELY IF THE FREAKIN' STAFFER WHO GAVE ME THE FREAKIN' DIRECTIONS HAD POSSESS AN OUNCE OF KNOWLEDGE ABOUT HOW TO GET ANYWHERE IN THE FREAKIN' VENUE!!!!!!!!!

I found Mackie (again, actually, she found me) in the Pink's queue. I'd been gone for about 30 minutes. She hadn't moved an inch after she got in line.

Mackie and I gave away our unused food tickets and left, having no food or drink for show for our efforts. We created our own, much more satisfying Great American Food Fest along El Camino Real, stopping at Weinerschnitzel, Carls Jr. and Baskin-Robbins.


[ED. NOTE: I'll grant you that I'm prone to exaggeration for entertainment purposes in this blog. Lest you think that the case in this post, I invite you to check out the comments section of the Serious Eats entry kicking off the event. Some of the early comments are laugh out loud funny. Later ones are just bitter. Serious Eats offered an apology but mucked it up by patting themselves on the back for certain aspects of the show. Commenters also skewered them for their self-congratulations.]