A few weeks ago I flew into Vancouver, then drove down to California with some friends to attend the Coachella music festival. As far as boring trips go, this one wasn't.
Our troupe was continually faced with the arch-nemesis of middle-class white people: inconvenience. Our car died driving through Washington State and we had to spend a night in a place called Kelso, which I highly recommend if you're a connoisseur of strip malls and/or meth. (Though there was this great diner called Stuffy's II that specialized in a dish called "stuff" and every menu item was unreasonably huge and glazed in butter and just delicious [no word on what became of Stuffy's I. Grease fire, one assumes.])
We fixed the car, headed off on an Oregon mountain pass and promptly got in a car accident. No one was hurt and after some inventive crowbar work to get the driver's door working again, we headed off on our journey. Also it rained at Coachella for the first time in 13 years.
Still, the trip was amazing and fun and, barring future dementia, totally unforgettable. I have no energy to put this into any kind of narrative, so here's my collection of random observations from Coachella and the ride there and back:
My expectations of the hipster-to-bro ratio at Coachella was way off. As soon as we drove in we were surrounded by Southern California frat/sorority guy/girls driving their parents' SUVs (I can only hope the five of us who had just driven 2,000 kilometers in a 1993 Ford Escort looked retro). Skinny jeans and horn-rimmed glasses? Rare. Ironic moustaches? Shaved. And forget about hippies, there was nary a drum circle to be found.
The complete and exhaustive list of awesome moves available to DJs:
1) Raise one arm in the air
2) Raise both arms in the air
Biggest Fashion Faux Pas as Determined and Told to Me by People Who Know About This Sort of Thing: socks and high heels.
I have seen some beautiful displays of love in my life. I've seen families that share everything with each other. I've known couples who would die for one another. My ex-roommate had a loving and committeed relationship with our Playstation 3. But I was not prepared for America's love of beer pong.
We hadn't even gotten in yet and dozens of tables were set up in the lineup. All weekend beer pong tables littered the camping grounds. Often they were crowded. Sometimes there were just guys sitting there waiting for the next challengers. Of course this means the surrounding grounds got a bit messy:
If you look Canadian enough, Americans will think you're adorable and give you free stuff like Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
Swedish House Mafia may or may not be a great house band. I honestly can't tell. They seemed to be really good at that thing where the music gets faster and higher then drops really low and bassy and everyone jumps and goes "waaaaa!" But it might also have had something to do with the stage being covered in lights and fire.
Suggested alternate name for Swedish House Mafia: Three Guys and a Laptop
Dumbest thing on sale: "vintage" Coachella t-shirts.
"Excuse me, is your car a hybrid?"
I never knew Americans had such a fixation with IDing people. Apparently if you so much as walk into a place that smells like booze you had better have two pieces of government-issued photo identification. I think I got IDed more in one week of being in America than my entire adult life in Canada. Is it some sort of make-work program?
Strangest thing heard blaring from the campground: Hootie and the Blowfish.
Best overheard argument: "No, dude. Hyenas don't hunt prey. They just don't."
Weirdest sports apparel sighting: A Raptors-era Damon Stoudamire jersey at the Dragonette show. Otherwise it was the normal collection of Dodgers, Red Sox and Yankee hats. My own Phillies ballcap elicited occasional reactions from "go Phillies!" to "Uh oh, here comes trouble."
Second-most startling Coachella moment: Jamming in a few rows away from the stage to see Radiohead amongst tens of thousands of people, only to find myself standing next to two friends from Halifax, literally the opposite end of the continent.
Most badass kid: This kid, spotted during the Childish Gambino show.
What's kind of weird about this is that Childish Gambino's lyrics are incredibly filthy:
Most Coachella-ey overheard quote: "I draw the line at Coldplay."
Least Coachella-ey overheard quote: "No one's even tried to sell me drugs yet!"
Token slacktivism: a kissing booth where for every kiss some company put a dollar towards Africa or cancer or something.
Most "clever" plays on Coachella from myself and a bathroom wall, respectively: Brochella, Coachhellyeah.
I'll always remember the look on that girl's face when she saw the Mexican man in charge of cleaning the port-a-potties and said with a quiver of horror and revulsion "That's... his job."
Price of a cup of coffee: $5. Price of a single cupcake: $5. Price of a banana: $2.
Most startling Coachella moment: Meeting up with a friend at a diner on Sunset Boulevard the day after Coachella ended, only to learn that what I thought was a real-life rapper playing Tupac as part of a tribute, was actually a fucking hologram. Even though I was far back and drinking hard liquor out of a pop bottle, I spent several minutes completely unaware a man before me was made out of light and pixie dust. When did we get this technology? The novelty may have worn off by now, but I expect this will be the closest I'll ever come to knowing how previous generations felt when they first experienced radio, television, or Star Wars.
