From the Viewing Platform: Innings Festival

Hi again, it’s Jordan.

There’s something very special to me about being able to share the things you love with the people you love, especially when it’s at a show. Riding the high of a great weekend, maybe even one of the best weekends I’ve had in my twenty something years of life, is worth the price it came at this time. There were hiccups, as there always are and always will be, but they were more like speed bumps and less like full detours. All things considered, I felt relatively well equipped to handle the pitches I was thrown.

Let me rewind for a moment. I had the absolute privilege of spending three and a half days with my best friends in Arizona for Innings Festival. I can’t lie, I was very worried when I made the decision to attend. The layout made me very nervous as someone who has a difficult time walking long distances, and the projected forecast wasn’t looking like it was in the favor of those of us who are very heat sensitive. I’m a tristate area girl at heart – I was not built for the desert. How I keep ending up there is a mystery to me, but I do far better in places that are at least a little humid and aren’t a baseline of 85 degrees in the spring.

Innings Festival layout

Still, I persisted and took an overpriced Uber all the way to JFK from central Jersey to get on my six hour flight to Phoenix. Starting the trip on a full work day followed by such a long flight was not necessarily setting myself up for success, but it was the choice I made and I was sticking with it. My body, like many of my friends’ who are also disabled, acts like a very fragile ecosystem and if one thing goes even a little off, it turns into a system-wide shutdown. Putting myself in a position where I can’t move much for nearly a quarter of the day was definitely a risky choice, knowing how much I was going to have going on for the next few days. None of that is to say I wasn’t excited to get to our Airbnb, but the feeling ahead of time was overwhelmingly anxiety. 

When I prep myself to go to a show, I don’t just start the day or two before the show. That is, sadly, not one of the benefits I have like a lot of my friends do. For some people, it’s as easy as getting a half decent night’s sleep and not being hungover. For me, it starts with looking for what this particular show’s version of accessibility is long before the show starts approaching. Usually, it’s much closer to when I buy my ticket. Sometimes, it’s before I even pull the trigger and commit to going. I’ve been burned too many times by thinking I can make a venue work for me, only to have a miserable night and end up laid in bed for days trying to recover. 

Not all venues, festivals, or shows are built equally. Some are… not great in terms of easily accessible information about things like transit, guest services, and how to get necessary accommodations. Some blow it absolutely out of the park and make it very unlikely that you’ll have to reach out directly to get answers. A lot lie somewhere in the middle, not awful but not exceptional. Innings leans much more toward the positives, with a full page on their website dedicated to the ins and outs of accessibility for their festival. I don’t mean just the bare bones, either – there were extensive entries on the different entrances to the festival, along with how to obtain an accessibility wristband and what that allows in terms of accommodations. Rarely do I see pages so thorough that I’m not left with a reason to shoot a quick email over, but it was an incredibly welcome experience to not feel like I needed to.

The weather also, thankfully, was not nearly as warm as it had been forecasted to be. Instead of a barely manageable 86, it was closer to 80 the whole weekend, including the day I went to the festival. It got a little too hot for me to be in the direct sunshine midday, but there were actually a decent amount of places to hide from the sun. Festivals aren’t exactly known for having a lot of places to sit, but Innings had them sprinkled across the grounds and none of them were so crowded that I couldn’t find somewhere to sit. Even if that place was the dusty ground.

And, boy, was that ground dusty. I'm from a relatively humid place, with lots of grass and trees and foliage. For better or worse, that's the climate my body is used to. Desert climates are still new to me (I don't think my two long weekends in Las Vegas over the last three years count for much) so I knew this would be a challenge going into it. I expected the dryness and the sun and the potential for wind. What I wasn't expecting was the dust. Every time anyone moved, boom. Dust cloud. It was something I hadn’t really considered was even possible. The weather, though, barring the dust, was nice. Coming from the freezing wind of New Jersey, where the highs had been in the mid 30s, the sunny, 80 degree days were a relief.

The grounds were a decent distance from where we were staying, so we ended up splitting the cost of a rideshare to get there. That was where challenge number one came in for me. The dropoff point for the festival was almost half a mile from the closest entrance. Sure, the walk was across sidewalks and closed streets, but that’s still a trek. Road closures, in my experience, are pretty standard, but that doesn’t make getting from Point A to Point B any less physically difficult.

Once we got to the grounds, it was smoother sailing. We’d shown up late enough that there wasn’t a wait for security, but even if there had been, there was a dedicated ADA line to enter. The grounds themselves were fine, for the most part, with the exception of the one miserable hill next to the smaller stage. There was no good way to get around it, really, so that was one of the things that just needed to be braved and taken slowly. That also added to the distance between the entrance and the stage itself, which was nestled all the way in the far corner of the festival. The area around the stage was grassy and easy to navigate with my cane, so I was able to relax a little and not worry that I’d step wrong or press into the wrong spot and go tumbling. 

Winona Fighter at Innings Festival

We made it over to the stage just in time to find our friend who had shown up before us and get a really good spot for Winona Fighter. (Sidebar: if you haven’t checked them out yet and you’re into the alt scene, give their debut album a listen. “My Apologies to the Chef” has been in heavy rotation since it came out on Valentine’s Day – they’re absolutely my ones to watch of 2025 and one of my favorite recent discoveries. Not to mention, they put on one hell of a show.) The crowd was great, especially close to the barricade where we ended up. It was, admittedly, mostly my friends and people we were already acquainted with, but it was one of the few crowds I’ve been in since my diagnosis a few years ago where I didn’t feel nervous. Part of that absolutely is the fanbase that Winona Fighter cultivates, but part of that was also the confidence that comes with being around people who know and love you and will make sure you’re good. I even managed to mosh for the first time, which is something that I’ve always said I would never be caught dead doing. It’s a risky move when you’ve got nerve problems and a major lack of balance, but I had a great time getting knocked around by my friends.

Once Winona Fighter’s set was over, most of my group ended up scattering, with some looking for food or deciding to check out the rest of the festival’s offerings and some staying back to get a decent spot for the next band on that stage. There was anywhere from forty five minutes to an hour in between each set on either stage, so most of us wandered off. The one friend who I stuck with ended up tagging along to find Guest Services with me, since we hadn’t had time to stop on the way in to get any kind of ADA wristband. Typically, you’re able to get one at any point, but not going first thing upon arrival admittedly made me a little nervous. Thankfully, everyone working at Guest Services was incredibly kind and helpful. The process looks different show to show, but Innings managed to streamline it with a QR code linking out to a form that you were able to fill out yourself instead of having to have anyone else do it for you. 

By the time we finished registering and getting our wristbands, we’d run into some friends who were heading back our way. This was also around the time that we were first hearing inklings that things at the Main Stage were not going all that well. From the information our friends up at the front were passing along, there was one security guard there when there was one present at all, there was absolutely no water being passed around despite their requests, and there was a group of fans near them that were notorious for not displaying any kind of concert etiquette. My plan had been to be in the crowd and get as close to them as possible long before the headliner started, but I was starting to reconsider. 

In the meantime, the three of us who had found each other decided to wander a bit in between sets and have a look at what Innings really had to offer beyond the two stages they had set up. We grabbed a picture at the Xyzal booth, sent postcards from Beatbox’s truck, and managed to snag a couple freebies while we did. The walk between areas wasn’t nearly as bad as the map had led me to believe that it would be, and the pavement was in pretty good condition, so wandering was actually possible for me. Normally, I tend to park it in one spot once I get to a festival because they’re so spread out and difficult for me to safely navigate, but I was pleasantly surprised at how much of the grounds I actually got to see this time around.

It was also made possible in large part because of how much shade there was. Between the different tents set up and the overpass that went right over the middle of the grounds, it was shockingly easy to find a spot out of the sun. Again, about half the time it was on the dusty ground, but it was still shade and that’s all that matters to me at a certain point. I’m extremely heat sensitive and overheat very quickly, so outdoor festivals are a unique kind of challenge for me. It’s made a little less overwhelming when I’m with people who actively consider my needs and remind me that I need to remember and respect my own boundaries and don’t make me feel like a burden for having needs, but I can go from totally fine to very, very not okay in just a couple minutes if I’m not careful about it.

Part of that is eating regularly, even when I don’t feel like I want to. Being an adult at a concert, for me, means forcing myself to eat something with real protein and chug a full bottle of water every so often and then keep it pushing. That gets harder in the heat, but some of it is just mind over matter. This was challenge number two: the main area had no real food. There was a Jersey Mike’s booth that was giving out sandwiches if you had the app, but there was nothing that you could buy other than booze. Drinking in the heat (or at all, most times) isn’t something I’m safely able to do, so there was a trek back toward the side stage to find anything to eat. The food selection was serviceable, if not a little limited. I ended up with a potato tornado, but my friends were able to find more substantial options. There was no shade around the food stalls, though, so as soon as we had our snacks, we turned tail and headed back the way we came. The ground in between the two halves of the festival worked just fine for us, but if there hadn’t been turf down, I would probably have felt differently. 

This was around the time I started to lose service. My phone is never great at events like this, so I wasn’t shocked, but it was still a bummer and definitely meant I had to stick close to my friends so I didn’t end up lost and having an emergency somewhere. Thankfully, it’s been a number of years since my last true emergency at a show (that was Warped Tour in 2013, where my mom had to drive almost two hours to come get me because I had sun poisoning so bad that I couldn’t even be outside anymore), but the thought that it could still happen at any moment gives me a healthy fear of what my body is capable of doing when it decides to stage a mutiny against me.

The worst part of losing service wasn’t the inability to scroll through social media or post cute pictures – it was the fact that, just before I stopped getting messages from our group chat, my friends had sent a plea to all of us not in the crowd to bring any kind of water up to them if we were able. It was nearing 4pm at that point, and they’d been up at the barricade since the gates opened at noon. Not to mention that they’d been in line since somewhere near 5 in the morning to secure their spots. They were going on eleven hours without substantial food or water, and the last thing I saw before I lost service was that the single security guard up there was more concerned with hydrating himself than listening to anyone at the stage begging for water.

A view from the crowd at Innings Festival

There’s a certain social contract when you go to this kind of show. If you’ve never been to any kind of festival, or really any show that’s being held at a mid-sized venue or larger, water is almost always made available to anyone at the front of the crowd and anyone in the several rows behind them. It’s for the comfort and safety of the audience, and it avoids needing constant medical attention because people are overheating and passing out. When there’s no water, especially at an outdoor event in such a dry place, it’s a cause for concern for anyone, not just for disabled people. Safe to say, I was concerned for my friends and the rest of the people who had been standing there all day.

Before you think, “Jordan, couldn’t they have just left and come back?”, the answer is that it’s not always quite that simple. People at shows wait for hours (or days, sometimes, which is a different story) to get to be the very small handful of people at the barricade. I don’t try for barricade myself because, one: I don’t run and securing a spot up there means you’re going to have to run, and two: it’s not comfortable for me to be in one very small spot all day. I’ve done it before, but I’d never do it for a festival again. No matter how much sitting I’m able to do, by halfway through the day, I’m in a ton of pain, and by the time the main act comes on, I’m so miserable that I can barely move. I don’t have a good time like that, but so many of my friends do. Those are the people who take care of me, so this was my moment to return the favor.

I led the handful of us who had stuck together over to the main hub for Guest Services with the intention that I was either going to speak to someone to fix this or stick around until they were annoyed enough with me to get me to someone who would. One of the things I’ve learned in the last few years of trial and error in advocating for myself is that you have to be persistent, and you have to be stupidly brave about it. I went over there ready to raise absolute hell on behalf of the people I love the most in the world to keep them safe. There is very little I wouldn’t do for the family we’ve created out of this little ragtag group of loners, and if I had to go crazy to get someone to pay attention to this very real issue, I was going to.

Thankfully, that was not what ended up being needed. I was able to talk to someone about my concerns, and he assured me he’d speak to someone at the Main Stage and see what was going on. I didn’t have a ton of faith, considering my friends had spent the afternoon tweeting at the official Innings account to see if there was ever going to be more security or water, and all they’d gotten back was a reply asking for their exact location, even though they’d put that in the first message. It was a pleasant surprise, though, that within two minutes, upwards of ten cases of water had gone out to the crowd. The feeling of absolute relief I felt reading the message over my friend’s shoulder that there was more security who were actually taking care of the crowd was almost palpable.

We also heard that the crowd was relatively light and was probably going to clear out in a few minutes to transition to the other stage for the next set, so we made the executive decision to refill our water bottles one last time, hit the bathroom, and work our way as close to our friends at the front as we could. The dust was getting worse the more everyone shifted, but it was manageable for the moment. There was, however, an overarching theme of no show etiquette, and it was coming from all directions. People in front of us had decided to light up cigarettes and smoke right in the middle of the crowd, and they weren’t particularly happy when someone asked them to put them out soon because they were blowing smoke behind them. Of course, there were also the people who claimed their wife or girlfriend or family were up at the front, and they were not shy about shoving past people just to get a better spot. One knocked into me hard enough to nearly have me falling, which meant I was then dealing with a locked knee for the last few hours of the night from catching myself before I went down.

By the time the second to last act was on, I wasn’t having the best time. There stopped being room to even crouch down and rest my joints and nerves before they went on, so being packed in that tightly was really starting to get to me. I hadn’t come all the way across the country for this just to give up my very good spot in the crowd, though. I can’t lie and say I didn’t consider it, but there’s a certain part of me that is constantly trying to push myself. It’s not a part I always like or respect about myself. It is a part of me that does exist, however, and I have to grapple with that every show. Is the risk worth the reward? Is the pain I’m in going to be worth it once the show starts? 

Usually, the answer is yes. There were moments I questioned it at Innings. Midway through Fall Out Boy’s set, the guys standing next to my group decided that opening a pit in the middle of the dirt was the right idea. Not only that, but they thought the best way to do it was to jump into the crowd around them and shove people around, whether or not they were trying to mosh, too. I got more than a few elbows and shoulders and hands to the back, and I certainly felt it. It didn’t matter that I had my cane out or that I kept trying to get their attention to tell them to stop. That also meant I got separated from my friends, because when a pit opens, the crowd shifts. I spent more than a few songs anxiously trying to get back to my group.

It was a good thing that I did, too, because it wasn’t long before another pit formed. My friends, who truly are always looking out for me, immediately yanked me in between them and as far from the action as they could. I don’t think I would’ve survived if they hadn’t. Most of the rest of the set went by without incident, but the dust never quite settled. We spent the rest of the night coughing and choking, even with water to drink. That’s the price of being out in the desert, I suppose. It wasn’t one I was ready to pay, but it was one that was owed.

Photo by Winona Ann

Getting out of the show was challenge number three for me. The walk back to the exit wasn’t long, and the crowds weren’t rowdy, but as soon as I started moving, my joints locked. It’s something I’m used to dealing with, but it doesn’t get any less painful when it happens. Making our way back to the pickup spot for our rideshare was also miserable. The one near the main entrance was somehow even further away, over gravel and through parking lots and uneven ground. Eventually, I did make it back, and by the time we got in the car, I was feeling a bit better. Not great, but I wasn’t moving like the Tin Man anymore.

The next morning was ugly and unpleasant for me. Really, it started in the night, when I woke up in so much pain that I was nauseous and freezing. There was an overdramatic half an hour where I was convinced that it was the end for me, but my body finally relaxed enough again that I was able to fall back asleep for a few more hours. It wasn’t restful sleep, but it was still sleep and some days, that’s better than nothing. By the time I woke up for real, I was just feeling bruised and vaguely sore all over, but not nearly as bad as I was when I’d woken up in the night. Knowing I had the whole day to just exist before I had to fly home also helped. If I’d had to leave first thing in the morning, I don’t know if I would’ve been moving as well or feeling as half decent as I was. I have a feeling I wouldn’t have.

Overall, I had a really great time. Even with the dust and the walking and the rough crowds, I’ve certainly had worse experiences at shows. I’m also acutely aware of the fact that I was able to prep myself very well by being in town the day before the festival and that I was just having a decent day overall when it came to how my body was feeling. I would’ve taken more precautions against the dust if I had known, and I probably would’ve thrown some Tylenol in my bag, but this time, the reward was worth it.

Sometimes, oftentimes, I find myself asking why the hell I keep doing this. What is the point of putting my body through so much stress and trauma, of pushing and pushing and not always getting a payoff? The point, I’ve found, is the feeling I get when I’m with my community, experiencing the same thing at the same time and getting to do it together. I wouldn’t trade the memories of holding my friends and crying to the songs that have meant so much to all of us in such different ways, because that’s how we all found each other. It’s how I found myself. So I get up, I tape my knees and my friends’ knees and put on my braces, and I get out there.

So what’s next for me, you may ask? The answer is heading out to Denver to see 3OH!3 for their annual hometown shows. I don’t normally plan things this close together, but both of these shows were too good to miss. It’ll also be a very different experience, considering there are two shows I’m going to and the bigger of them is in a 900-cap venue. Of course, you’ll be coming along for the ride.

Until next time,

Jordan