Coachella Run

I’ve been hearing all kinds of fun goings-on at Coachella so decided to join in. I’d never been to these post digital rock-me-silly musical events, though had my fair share of grassy knoll concerts as a teen where we would sit in the grass, drink warm beer, swoon with Led Zeppelin in blue jean/T-shirt attire.

Nowadays, I’ve learned that in addition to more than just one band, there might be, say fifty, as well as human fire eaters, trapezes artists, séances, people sticking pins in their eyes, yoga classes, and apparently lots of light effects and various shaman leading people into mud rolls.

Also there are surprise musical guests. It might Bono or Bozzo. I know this because I read. Though Coachella may be the big kahuna, these newfangled outdoor events happen all year round. The Eclectic Light Orchestra featuring some girl named Daisy, Purple Haze Sky Festival, New Age meets Old Age Extravaganza, Burning Man, just to name a few.  

Being the adventurer I am, when I heard the Black Keys were playing that cinched the deal. I love this new band I had recently heard on my car radio, until I discovered in fact they had something like eight records out already, but hey, they were new to me. After scanning the list, of course I recognized Radio Head and Mazzy Star. I saw Dear Hunter and Oberhofer so now my curiosity peeked to a new high. Oberhofer? Really?

I also knew people wore all kinds of get ups, so I rooted through my kids costume box, pulled out striped tights, a pink tutu, various head wraps, tiaras, three wigs, then found a pair of platforms I bought once for one of those silly “It’s a ’70s themed party” things. I actually didn’t go but still had the lame ass shoes.

Doing my face in war paint would not be an issue since my kids had plenty, typically reserved for Halloween.

Knowing these events could last up to four, I brought my daughters Snow White sleeping bag, a flashlight, and some Mars bars, just in case the experience proved everything it promised.

Off I went after Googling Coachella, seemed a straight shot down Highway 10. I don’t use navigational systems after my disastrous first attempt a few years back. Punching in the address took more time than looking at a damn map, not to mention I loathe the robotic woman telling me what to do.

“Hush up girl! Stop already you cow!” She continues on. I was going approximately eight miles, I know because I had been to this house before, but it did involved freeways and that’s where I can get confused in L.A. This robot sent me to Tijuana. I’m certain out of spite because I called her so many awful things. I didn’t cross the border, but never used the system again.

Off I roar in my little car, expecting heavy traffic but it wasn’t too bad. I left at 5 a.m. just to be safe.

And there is the sign, COACHELLA. HA, trust your instincts. Dumb NVS. I was there in two hours. The show probably hadn’t start yet.

I pulled into what I can only call a deserted junkyard. As I got closer, I noticed the place was huge and fenced in. That seemed smart. Keep out the people that didn’t buy tickets. I paid $250 for mine. My car was hitting all kinds of rocks, mud pits, and it smelled liked human feces frankly. Had I missed it?

Then rows and rows of dilapidated trailers, in fact it was a gigantic trailer park. I got excited. So the musicians play in a trailer to a small crowd, how intimate. How smart. I could literally sit next to say, Keith Richards.

I couldn’t wait for the festivities to start. I didn’t see any food stands or even tents. Maybe they hadn’t arrived yet. It was still only 7 a.m.  But I did hear a lot of dogs barking and babies crying. Pretty soon younger kids started pouring out of the trailers carrying rags and sticks, hopefully to fix that awful smell. I figured they were the set up crew. These concerts were total game changers. They had better move fast or there is no way the Black Keys will come.