A Playground Made of Garbage (Coachella)

Yes, I’m talking about Coachella. I thought it would be appropriate to do a blog post on attending this incredible music festival, or more like do my best to write a blog post about what I remember from this incredible music festival. So, let’s get to it.
It’s been nearly four weeks since Brielle and I have partied our faces off with little to no sleep, drooled over our favorite artists, and packed our bags from camp to make our way home from Indio, CA. The dusty desert where Coachella lives for two weekends each year. The place every female Instagram-er with over 900-followers dreams of, each gay boys wet fantasy, and my best friend and I’s enraptured reality. And for once, everyone had been in “ah” over our lives… but probably not. Either way, we had finally been in “ah”, captured in a daze revisiting the last few days of our lives. This dusty desert had finally become our reality.
Surrounded by dirt, where the campgrounds. Which is where B and I stayed, on the grounds at Lake El Dorado. Where the natural elements of the air had practically become a part of our immune system and each morning I’d be waking up with the same routine, pressing my thumb against one nostril to better snot rocket all of the dirt and dust boogers out of the other. No joke, my dudes. All weekend my boogers resembled the damage of the dust bowl and so did the rest of my body. My ankles had been so dry that had I rubbed them together, they would’ve started a fire, but it’s a small price to pay for the lavish lifestyle of attending one of the most famous music festivals on the planet.
For the most part, we spent our time in the festival, but the times we did spend on the camping grounds, we had spent melting. I genuinely did not think the heat was going to be a big deal. Not for us anyway, I mean how many times have I seen an egg get fried on the sidewalk in this hell of a state called Arizona. I thought I’d have no problem ignoring it like I have my entire life, and everyone’s always warning you about the heat at Coachella, I just thought it was those L.A. snobs or the NY pricks. But when they complain about the heat, they never quite mentioned, how when the sun begins to rise in the middle of the morning, it’ll gleam straight into your tent/teepee and make it feel like an oven preheating (if you make it out in time). The heat was so bad in fact, B and I got out of our scorching hot appliance every morning to go sit in the shade to get ready, put our makeup on and not smoke a joint that’s totally legal in California… It was for medicinal purposes because without it we would’ve developed some serious PTSD. Think of camping at Coachella like the holocaust, Never. Again.
The heat really is the one thing that everyone is constantly mentioning other than the good drugs and the even better music (debatable). Anyway, we’ve all heard it enough times so our immediate response is always filled with the “I know(s)” or “I’m used to it” when, believe me honey, you do not know how fucking hot it is. In AZ alone we experience two seasons year ‘round: “hot” and “hell”. But Coachella had got me fucked up on a whole new level. Yes, we live in the desert nearly 4 hours outside of Indio, Ca, but you don’t know heat until your 10,000 people deep in the pit for Future, 20 minutes before the sun starts to set on 110 degree weather. It’s by far the most intense drug you’ll experience the entire festival, you’ll be hallucinating so bad you’ll be able to see the sun in the distance and feel as if you’re standing directly on it at the same time. So, bring your sunblock and drink lots of alcohol!! Oh shit, I meant water. Drink lots of transparent liquids to keep you very hydrated or very unaware. Pick your poison, because either way you’ll want to die when the sun is out.
We did however, do our best to ditch the groupie crowds in the morning and hit the festival grounds in the late afternoon to see the performances we had been looking forward to. Which was our best bet. It worked out nicely because we got to make our way to our shaded spot outside the teepee and take our time to get ready and not have to worry about rushing.
Anyway, the first night we pulled in I could’ve slept till morning, but Brielle insisted on going out to party, and because she had paid for my ticket I was in no position to argue with her. Although that idea didn’t stop us from arguing the entire trip, it’s really what keeps our friendship so irritating, yet so healthy. Point being, we went out Thursday night and partied till 2am just to wake back up at 8am. I was fucking exhausted, but that hadn’t damaged my ability to party like I was Jordan Belfort or the kids from that Project X movie. In fact, that applies for the entire weekend. I’m surprised I made it out alive, at the end of the night you’d be walking back to the shuttle lines or your campsite and you’d literally just see bodies passed out on the floor. Somedays I saw such dumb shit happen right before my eyes and I was just like wow, amazing…anyways, I get it though, because at the end of the night you’re so tired you could lay on 6 inches of glass, but glass isn’t allowed in the campsite so a sleeping bag will just have to do… or the fucking ground inside the festival for that matter.
Friday morning, we were swallowed by the sun by 9am and I had been sweating so bad that my entire cot had been dripping wet when I had woken up… it was wildly unpleasant. But as much as I hated the heat, it’s all a part of the Coachella experience. Friday we went into the grounds for the first time around 3 and hit a DJ set in one of the nicely air-conditioned tents, and the DJ was really good too… whoever she was. We eventually left the tent to check out the rest of the grounds before parting ways because we both couldn’t resist missing a single moment of one of our favorite performers. So, B made her way to watch The XX and I, skipped all the way to Steve Angelo. Who completely tore it up by the way, and also dropped a whole new set piece both weekends. Which was pretty dope. I can’t exactly recall anymore than Friday night… I remember Lady Gaga preformed and being surrounded by the gays was spiritual, yet paralyzing because some of those twinks are so obnoxiously annoying that I want to choke them out. It’s not a gay thing… okay, it’s kind of a gay thing. Twinks love their Lady Gaga and I’m not saying they have good taste, but Lady Gaga was complete magic and her vocals were riveting. As I’m sure everyone else’s were too…
The VIP tents were cool, but the people who filled them were mostly old and someone’s mom or dad. Probably those freakish parents who have to chaperone their 16 year olds because they’re afraid they’ll get hooked on a marijuana… Like fucking go home Cathy, your daughter does coke at every party I see her at. Smh.
However, at one point we had met a man in his early 20’s, who’s name was tornado or lightening or avocado toast, I don’t really remember, but he approached Brielle to compliment her ACDC shirt and then decided to go on and on about how amazing they were at last years Coachella. It sounded really. Fucking. Awesome. And I know I’m sarcastic like 800% of the times, but I’m serious. I was a little jealous because I can’t even imagine being able to see ACDC in concert, and they’re also B’s favorite band so immediately I thought, this guy is Brielle’s soulmate, he’s the one. I thought for sure that I was partaking in a historical moment and one thing led to another and I started to imagine being a bridesmaid at their wedding and them thanking me for being a part of their earliest memories together as true love was slowly brewing within them. Not to mention, this dude was practically drooling over the band, kinda like B does, and hitting on her over and over so I just kept to myself and let it play out. I ended up giving him our tent number… which come to find out, B wasn’t stoked about because she didn’t think he was the one for her like I did… I guess I got ahead of myself and avocado toast isn’t going to be the one to take my best friend to the alter. Maybe next year.
Speaking of the shenanigans inside the VIP tents, I had run into some woman who was twice my age making a phone call behind a very large plant, and I guess at that point in time I wanted to do my “civic duties” and make sure she wasn’t calling an ex. Completely harmless. But her husband had actually been about 10 feet away and I had made an ass out of myself, but so had she. We had both been on each-others level anyway (if you know what I mean). This woman, and her husband were super sweet and nice, but for some reason she would not stop kissing me… right in front of her husband too. Can’t call me a home-wrecker if she opened the door, you feel me, but I mean she was a total babe despite her age so I was in no position to stop her, it was Coachella… you can’t give off bad vibes at Coachella, it’s practically a rule.
Once I had found Brielle, they had joined us at a table together. I couldn’t stop complimenting her once she had told me her age because of how young she looked. Her secret to being ’40-something’ and looking ’20-something’ was, 1. Yoga and 2. Eating healthy. Which, given by the hamburgers Brielle had just brought to the table and my totally “in-shape” physique, I hadn’t done either. Luckily for me, I don’t really have to worry about that just yet… Not that I really plan on it in the future either, because I did yoga once, and let me tell you, my legs just don’t do that honey, unless it’s for the right reasons… in that case, I’m a little more open to high stretches and downward dog.
A few minutes passed and I hadn’t noticed because, as usual, I was stuck in my own world. But, somehow, I always find myself stuck in these… really odd predicaments. Because at some point while we had all been sitting at this picnic table in the middle of the lawn, she and her husband had gotten into some kind of very emotional conversation with B, and the next thing I knew I had turned my head and they were both crying… Like wiping away tears from the bottom of their chin, crying. And, of course I had absolutely no fucking idea what was going on. But that didn’t stop me from extending my kindness by offering the two of them a piece of gum… I honestly have absolutely no idea why I had done that, but I did, and they both just blankly looked at me and went back to cooling themselves off with their tears and I went back to not paying attention, or whatever it was that I was so wrapped up in doing.
Eventually, they had wiped their final tears, I had lost my appetite, and Lorde was taking the main stage. They had invited us to go with, but I really didn’t want to go considering they were just crying like teenage girls at prom. The only difference being, I find teenage girls who cry over their prom date amusing, not grown adults who do yoga. I was kinda embarrassed for them because I can’t imagine going to Coachella and reminiscing on it in the future, remembering how you cried to two teenage girls. But hey, mushrooms make you do wild shit, right? … On a serious note, they were super, super nice and I did kind of feel bad for them, so we decided not to turn down their offer and tagged along with them to Lorde.
After watching Lorde’s performance for about 45 minutes, we had to leave them, and later, came to the conclusion that they were swingers and trying to have an orgy with us. Which made sense due to all the mouth swapping I was receiving. But had I known, they probably wouldn’t have dented my due so much because I remember them mentioning at some point, before the water works, how they were staying in a hotel in Beverly hills, meaning, they were waking up with air conditioning, and not in a puddle of their own sweat. That got me thinking, naked or not, it sounded very delightful. Even if I had to spend it with two ’40-somethings’ and my childhood best friend.
As for the rest of Coachella, I may not remember much, but I know we had a hell of a good time and I plan on going back every year.

 

By Brittany V. Dresevic
Pure Poison

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