Being new to Chattanooga, Riverbend has been a mystery to me. I'm not a crowds person, and I'm definitely not a heat person, so I've marveled as to what possibly could entice people to the riverside in spite of the deluge of sweat and bodies.
I've gone to college near Chattanooga and long been warned about summers here, with heat that settles so thick you gain weight as you inhale, asphalt that cooks the bottom of your sandals and Riverbend, which is both of those things combined with beer and Polish sausage.
As a tenderfoot intern, I was asked to share an outsider's first encounter with the festival.
So I decided to try to figure out what makes Riverbend work, and what magnetizes hundreds of thousands of people to it.
I asked the driver of the shuttle I rode to the festival to give me some pointers. He told me to make sure to eat chicken on a stick, as he had heard it was glorious.
I got off the bus, joined the swarm of people pouring into the entrance and began absorbing it all.
One of the first things that hit me was just how southern American the whole thing is. I've spent the last five months in England and quickly noticed that Riverbend is everything England is not: hot, sticky and soulful.
The festival comprises many things I never knew I would miss about the South: grease and smoke, country music and blues, tank tops and cutoffs, and food that takes a year off your life with every bite. I began to get excited -- the whole thing was, in a funny way, a breath of fresh air.
Most festivalgoers said the entertainment is what prompted them to bear the heat and crowded streets. But many said it was the crowd itself that drew them.
"I love being with all the people," said Emily Fite, of Chattanooga. "Yes, it's really crazy. But it makes for a great atmosphere."
Reneé Williams, of Rossville, echoed her.
"I love to come down here and just watch people -- how they act and what they do," she said. "The crowd is part of the experience for me."
Another big part of the experience for many is the beer and food. The beer I could understand, as it's one more way to beat the heat. But the hot food was another mystery. As my bus driver predicted, everyone was going for the hot chicken on a stick.
I asked Dan Wilson, who sells the chicken for Hardvell's Ragin' Cajun stand, to help me understand the attraction.
"It's the flavor," he explained, listing a whole cabinet-full of spices he puts into his marinade.
I had a transcendent moment as I sat on the curb eating my own chicken on a stick, listening to a group of 14-year-old girls sing off-key karaoke, with sweat pouring down my back.
I realized Riverbend really is about embracing that deluge of sweat and people. It's about that yearly indulgence in funnel cakes and karaoke. It's about that moment at a concert when everyone shamelessly sings along.
Seventeen-year-old Josh Roddy, who was waiting to see Darius Rucker, summed it up when asked what brought people to Riverbend.
"It's a tradition."