I am a purist, a solitary being and a stickler for personal space. I like a certain radius around me clear and I like my toilets free of turds and my tequila free of water. That being said, I had a good time at Coachella though most all of these rules were violated.
It's 1:30am on Friday night, we're driving in a Lincoln LS and like the geriatric people who love these cars I have just woken up from a nap. It was ten maybe twenty minutes but for the safety of myself and the driver I stay awake because I worry the driver may be as tired as I am. We've gone through our limited music selection, even listened to the Ming and FS album twice and now we are so close that we can see the craggy dessert mountains jutting out in the distance. We are going to La Quinta, we might go to the water park tomorrow or maybe just hang by the pool and tan however, this happens to be the same weekend as Coachella. A childhood dream of mine to one day make it here and we are here with no tickets. We are not going to Coachella.
As we drive by the palm lined cement walled communities on a straightaway that seems to go on forever we see signs directing traffic and cops pulling people over and Fischer Spooner is playing on the radio, the station is playing all Coachella artists from previous years and current and at this point I realize I will definitely regret it if I do not go to Coachella while being in such close proximity. I have to go.
First thing Saturday morning we go straight to the box office, it's 9:00am and already 100 degrees.
Tickets are 100 dollars each and still available.
We are going to see Kraftwerk, Portishead and Prince, back to back and on the same stage.
I'm wearing jean shorts, the sun is beating down, I am sitting in the trunk drinking a tall can Modelo, I feel young again. Like I did pre-partying for all those concerts I went to where the was built so high because in my planner I had written a daily countdown three months in advance to a show. My hair is black instead of purple and I can buy any merch I want although, I choose not to, still I feel young not far from the person who sat for hours at the front of the stage just to ensure a seat as close as possible.
Coachella isn't just a concert, it's an art and music festival so beyond the five stages of music there are installation pieces of random things and people who appear to be walking a very fine line between self expression and neo-raver. 120 Days is playing and all their songs sound the same. Two kids are sniffing coke off of a car key in front of us. I wipe the sweat from under my sunglasses and hope for a beer. At least I hope to god my temporary drivers license works. The Heineken band around my right wrist proves it does and 88 bucks and some straight tequilas later I have arrived. I am here. I am at Coachella. I am young again. The grass doesn't bother my legs and my jean shorts from Target are a perfect alternative to anything American Apparel of which I see so much.
In the misty, raver area people dance to house music, or techno there's a guy on stills who walks over my head, subsequently kicking me. There are people with water hoses who I avoid because unlike years prior I have makeup on and I would like it to remain somewhat in tact.
By the time Prince arrives on the stage I am tired of being sandwiched in the crowd, I have to get out into open air. Sheila E. is with him and they perform Glamorous Life and the day seems pretty much surreal. Prince rocks the stage like a modern day James Brown and he knows it.
The walk from the concert area to the car feels like miles, my feet are black with dust and I realize I haven't eaten anything since noon and I have consumed a lot of cheap tequila. I keep thinking to myself we just saw Portishead, Kraftwerk and Prince!
