I think I’ve outgrown music festivals. There’s one here, Ravinia, and the idea of it is quite appealing to a mid-30s granny like me.

1. It’s close to where I live. I can drive there. I don’t have to navigate public transit with 5,000 other people trying to get to the same place on a 90-degree day.

2. The venue is small. I love small venues and can say with utter confidence that I’ll never go to an arena show again unless a certain teenager makes me. Then again, who wants to go to a show with their mom?

3. It goes on for three whole months, and there’s a variety of shows to choose from. Orchestras, jazz, Lenny Kravitz, a cappella choirs, once-great bands like Steely Dan.

4. There are trees. Tons of them. This means plenty of shade on the lawn.

5. There is covered pavilion seating. Most of the seats have a pretty good view.

6. There is fresh, well-prepared food. Not Cheez Whiz nachos.

7. There is good wine sold in plastic cups.

As I’m learning during my first summer in Chicago, Ravinia is an experience. Which might be code for “an ordeal.” First, parking is awful. It’s free, but it’s awful.

The first time I went, I saw a show for kids starring acrobats from China. The main parking lot was half full. I got a spot right away. We had a great time and skipped back to the car when it was over. We did not wait in traffic to leave. This Ravinia thing is great! I thought.

The second time I went, it was by myself to see a British guy I’ve wanted to marry for years. The main parking lot was full. I parked in an overflow lot about four miles from the venue. I packed into a shuttle bus with my fellow show-goers, most of them awkwardly lugging folded lawn chairs, beach towels, picnic blankets, folded tables, coolers, bottles of wine, jackets, picnic baskets, umbrellas…

The show was pretty good, but during it, I found myself wondering whether getting home would be a headache. It was. When the encore was over, most people had packed up and were running (actually running) for the shuttles. I waited in line a long time. There were obnoxious drunk people. It was getting late. I was cranky, and my Twitter feed had run out of updates.

In my rush to catch the shuttle before the show, I hadn’t noted where I parked. Sheer dumb luck led me to the row with my car. I sat in exiting traffic from 10:52 p.m. to 11:04 p.m.

So that’s parking at Ravinia. Next is the lawn. Unless you have reserved seating, you have to fend for yourself on the lawn. It’s a beautiful sprawling space, all flowers and huge trees and really green grass. But securing space on it is a sport that people take seriously. Most shows start at 8 p.m., doors open at 4. People are lined up by 3 to get their first choice on the lawn.

Also, these people mean business. It’s not about unrolling a blanket. They set up full dinner spreads on tables and plates with cheese, bread, fruit, wine, sandwiches. And candlelight. Lots of candlelight.

The third time I went to Ravinia will be the last for me this summer. The parking situation was even worse. I gladly left long before the show’s end to avoid the bottleneck.

Leaving so early felt like I was wasting money, but I consider the whole thing a lesson in Ravinia: Pick one or two shows you really want to see, then bookmark from about 6 p.m. to midnight for “doing Ravinia,” and earlier if you have lawn seats.

In the end, I liken Ravinia to an amusement park. It’s fun, but it’s annoying.

Anyway, the truth is, if I’m complaining about Ravinia – a music festival tailor-made for people in their 50s – I think it’s safe to say that my days of music festivals might be coming to a close.