Coachella Day One, Soakin’ it up

If I hadn’t already put it in writing, Brando and Natalia are my travel dream team. Let me now make it official that Melissa has been added to that team. The jokes and maniacal laughter carried us out of LA and into palm springs, the city we would be calling home for the entirety of the Coachella madness. On the way in we saw a real deal wind farm, hundreds of acres of turbines dancing in the desert wind.

IMG_6536I apologize in advance that the standard I’ve been setting for pictures will be abandoned for the rest of these posts since we were not permitted to carry “professional” camera’s into the show so I had to drop back to the old point and shoot. (although there was a suspicious amount of douche bags with dslrs inside the pearly gates of the damn show)

To put it frankly the weather on the first day blew ass. It was windy and freezing but we were still happy to be there and see some incredible live acts.

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Although we originally planned to be apart for most of the show since our music tastes didn’t appear to overlap, it seems our assumptions about each other’s opinions were wrong. Most of the show was spent either together or splintered in half as we ran around seeing acts like Pulp, Black Keys, Neon Indian, Jimmy Cliff, M. Ward, Atari Teenage Riot and Refused.

I’d like to take this moment to make a comment about the retarded nature of substance control at this particular event. Drugs are bad, got it. You have to take some action to at least appear to deter people from doing drugs at these events, also, got it. The sad reality is that without some level of substance use these types of events would not be profitable or exist. That being said, alcohol is not a drug in the legal sense and you allow  it’s use (profit from it’s insanely jacked up prices). Why in the name of holy hell would you not want people to be able to buy a drink then walk to the stage and drink it while they watch their favorite crooner?

There are beer gardens where you are checked on the way in and out and in these beer gardens there are only 3 options: Heineken, Newcastle and Tequila?! If tequila is an option why not other libations?! Who is responsible for this?!

After enduring these pitiful options for most of the day we decided to venture to the mysterious tent in the corner of the beer garden:

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The line outside seemed to be getting larger and we could all use a redbull so we decided it was a good idea. At the entrance there was a woman dressed in 1920’s garb asking for a password… this was a speakeasy. After watching the people in front of us flub the password I asked a man in suspenders standing just outside the entrance, after some coercion he let loose with the pass phrase “when bulls fly”. The flapper asked us for the key, we thus spoke, entry was granted. Upon entry things changed rather quickly. The interior was not that of a tent but a real deal bar, wooden floors, paintings hung on the walls, booths and a man at a piano. We proceeded to the bar to find… VODKA AND JAGER!!! Oh thank god, someone up there liked me and provided this oasis. Of course Jager bombs were $14 but what the hell, beggars can’t be choosers. I like this first picture because it looks like I’m wiping a tear away at the extreme joy I’m experiencing at the moment I set eyes on that bottle of Jager.

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We somehow managed to secure a booth and soaked in the period aura all around us.

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I’ll get to the hand signals later.

A live band came on and people started dancing their asses off, it became a pretty interesting little microcosm of activity in the middle of the gargantuan music cluster fuck that was going on outside. Did the other Coachella goers know this was going on? If a tree fell here and only we saw it, did it make a noise? Who knows? Who cares? We were there, it was awesome.

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As night fell, the Coachella scenery changed drastically, the place became, well, beautiful. The organizers had gone through some pretty extreme lengths to make this place breathtaking in the evenings. Lights on every tree and blazing into the sky. A network of spotlights convening directly above the event, creating a ceiling of converging light. What seemed like miles of lit balloons on high tensile strength line sprawled out across the sky. There were also a number of artistic creations strewn about the place, with no real rhyme or reason but still mostly very nice to look at.

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Of course the music was the main focus here, all this other nonsense was superfluous but it was the experience nonetheless. I’ll stop with the rambling now as I have to catch my flight and I have a very arduous journey ahead of me. I’ll try and get more info about the actual musical acts and our comedic exploits when I get a chance.

Cojelo,

Rob

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