Not everyone was familiar with Joan Jett, but she still kicked butt. (Photo: Jay Westcott)

Virgin FreeFest shook me to my core, kids—so many unexpected, world view-changing things took place! Some stuff went down exactly as I imagined it would—the Kyocera-sponsored beds were defiled, nearly every music critic in attendance snarked on Thievery Corporation (although Ally Schweitzer's quip that the group "sounds like a country I never want to visit," was by far my fave), and people were waaay too into M.I.A. But some things surprised me: I found that music critics are capable of earnest, gushing enthusiasm, outdoor festival bathrooms don't have to be disgusting, and people ACTUALLY LIKE Ludacris. A few of the day's big shockers:

I can be nearly moved to tears by an instrumental version of "Lollipop":
Trombone Shorty, one of most under-appreciated acts of the day, made Lil Wayne’s track sound so sweet, I misted up a little bit, while waving my cell phone, with its "Free Wayne" wallpaper, in the air. I’d love to blame the episode on heat/exhaustion/dehydration, but it was early in the day so I can’t.

People don’t know who Joan Jett is: You know, the girl I overheard pose this question really was quite young, definitely too young to remember Joan Jett's heyday, but still. I'm not old enough to remember Beethoven's heyday, but I know who he is. I was also bewildered, because Kristen Stewart, AKA BELLA SWAN FROM TWILIGHT, just played Jett in a movie, so 13-year-olds should at least know her from that. Sheesh.

Chris Richards didn’t know Joan Jett is from Rockville: Chris Richards (music critic for the Washington Post, and a bud) knows EVERYTHING, but is especially knowledgeable when it comes to renowned musicians from his home state. I must admit that his admission that he didn't know Jett is a MoCo native left me confused and questioning everything I know to be true.

It is possible to have a pleasant bathroom experience at a large, outdoor music festival: The only negative comments I heard (or yuckiness I encountered) at any of the bathroom facilities at Merriweather, stemmed from the two port-a-pottys set up near  the dance forest. And I suspect that those were overused because the dance forest kids were too high to realize there was a very clean, very underused indoor bathroom, with plumbing and hand soap and everything, about 10 feet away.

People actually like Ludacris: And I don’t mean people from 2003, either. People from 2010! I spent part of my day searching for die-hard Luda fans, and didn't really come up with anything (although Jon Fischer of Washington City Paper saw a homemade Luda shirt). But Luda's set was one of the surprises of the day—it was packed and the crowd was hyped. Maybe people really do like the guy, or maybe they just flocked to his set because festival was so light on hip-hop (thanks again, T.I.), that people who wanted to hear some raps were like, 'Fuck it—he’ll do.'" Either way, Luda, one could say, kinda sorta did his thing.

M.I.A. briefly made me question my strong dislike of M.I.A:
Actually, more accurately, M.I.A.'s beautiful child made me briefly question my strong dislike of M.I.A. I had to steel myself for MIA’s set, because I don’t like her new album and, truth be told, find her to be an overrated artist in general. So, naturally, I had to throw some shots her way. First off, I made fun of her for being late. Along with the other 34,999 people at V-Fest, I  tweeted jokes about M.I.A being M.I.A. I made some flip comments about the new record, and about wanting to leave the West stage where she was performing and go see LCD Soundsystem, but did give her props for a pretty great live version of "Bamboo Banga." So, I look up from banging out cranky tweets and who do I see right in front of me? M.I.A’s husband, Ben Bronfman/Brewer, and her baby son Ikhyd. As I looked into the child’s soft brown eyes, I momentarily felt bad for being hard on the boy’s mother. Then, M.I.A. launched into "Born Free," and the moment passed.

Oh yeah, music critics are fans, too: I was not at all prepared for the fawning, fanboy adulation heaped on LCD Soundsystem by normally curmuddgeonly, black-hearted music critics. Maybe that’s overstating things—these guys say something’s good when it’s good, say something bad when it’s bad, they're fair-minded, even. Do they get excited about music? Absolutely. But when Andrew Beaujon goes all caps, David Malitz just starts tweeting gibberish, and Chris Klimek and Jon Fischer dance, you know you have truly witnessed something special and magical (and obviously contagious since now I'm sounding like them).