Preface: I'm so sorry this took so long. It was a combo of my real life job + laziness with laziness winning. I also have odd writing OCD, and I actually can't write any new posts until the previous chronological post is finished. I also can't watch TV shows out of order or start in the middle of a season. I also hate cilantro. And people who get mad at me for using 2 spaces after a period.
Let us begin.
Day 3. I carved the final tally into the stucco tile next to my aero bed. The insanity was almost over.
Let us begin.
----
Day 3. I carved the final tally into the stucco tile next to my aero bed. The insanity was almost over.
Since I could no longer tolerate my stench of sweat, dust, weed, smoke, and rapid decline into old age, I took a shower. When I got out, one of my cabana-mates had turned on HGTV. Has anyone ever watched HGTV? IT. IS. FASCINATING. I couldn't look away. First up -- "Kitchin' Cousins." Two cousins remake your kitchen. That's it. But also so much more. Next, we watched "Property Brothers," where two very well groomed brothers help families to sell their home and fix up their new purchase. Equally hypnotizing. An hour later, and I was still in my towel, laying in bed next to my friend. I attempted to move, but then we discovered "Married to Medicine" on Bravo. (Has anyone does an in-depth report on Andy Cohen being a cult leader?) So, there went another hour of my morning. Was I really that upset? No. I secretly started planning to hide under the covers, and after my housemates gave up their search (which would probably be two minutes and a few yells of "Jeni?"), the group would proceed to the polo fields without me.
My reverie was interrupted by a friend who stormed into our guest bedroom declaring that we should "STOP BEING WASTES AND GET OUTSIDE." I respond out of fear when it comes to loud voices, and immediately threw on my uno-piece and hopped in the pool. It only took us 3 days to realize that the water we've been splashing around in, wasn't chlorinated. Compared to drugs, rickshaws, and dust inhalation -- that was probably the most dangerous part of the trip.
I could sense the magnetic pull of the festival, and my friends started making their way to gather venue necessities. I lingered around the pool saying, "You know -- they live stream the entire festival. You guys? I said they live stream everything. So we can just lay on a pool float and watch it on someone's laptop. You know... not leave? Just. Stay here?" No one really responded, and later a friend aggressively asked "WHY DID YOU NOT SPEAK UP? I REALLY WOULD HAVE PREFERRED THAT."
Well at this point, you know the drill: walk, bus, judge people, hydrate, off bus, walk, keep hydrating, judge more people, security.
My friend's boyfriend hit the first checkpoint and was interrogated by one of our yellow-shirted friends.
"Any weed?"
"No."
"Coke?"
"No."
"Pills?"
"No."
"Poki Balls?"
"What?"
"Go through."
Poki balls. I'm too scared to google it, but it's probably t-1 day until all local news stations have the "BREAKING" story that all the kids in the US are on "THE POKI." I mean, I kid about being old and out of touch, but once you stop recognizing illicit substances, then you are pretty much of out of the loop.
We then proceeded to play the game "Band or Drug?"
Booka Shade? Band.
Murder 8? Drug.
Tanlines? Band.
New Yorkers? Drug.
Sandwich Bag? Just a ziplock.
Speaking of drugs, KIDS DON'T DO THEM. Or just smoke pot, I don't know. I don't really fancy myself a roll model. Maybe a hand model, but that's it. I made an executive decision to leave a bunch of rolled items back at the house, seeing as I pretty much poisoned everyone I love. My friend's boyfriend who desperately wanted to take the lollipop challenge on Day 2 recounted his experience: "Oh, yeah... I thought my nose ran off my face." And there you have it.
My friends literally hazed me after they found out I only had about 1.5 items. "BUT YOU HAD LIKE 5 MORE BACK AT THE HOUSE!!!!" Well, I got the last laugh. Actually we all got the last laugh, because we physically couldn't stop laughing after finishing only half of one while waiting in line for mango sorbet. The teenaged boy in front of us turned and asked, "Are you guys sick or something?" This probably had to do with the fact we couldn't stop coughing. Coughing, laughing, laughing, coughing, probably crying. If I could sum up Coachella in one experience it would probably be 17 year olds are looking at us, shaking their heads, thinking "Those 27 year olds really can't handle their shit."
The mango sorbet was probably my favorite part of the trip. I couldn't stop talking about it. "It's mango sorbet IN A MANGO. You guys. IN the mango!" Apparently not that big a deal, because I was informed you can get something like it at Trader Joe's. What a wonderful place. You can also get full benefits as an employee! Which is great, because I'm convinced everyone who works there is on hallucinogens and dust-off. We were getting close to the register, so it was time to focus and figure out what we were having. Trying to get anyone in my group to make a decision at this point in time was like herding feral cats. I SOMEHOW became the group representative at the register, which is never going to be the best idea. One friend whispered in my ear that he wanted the "Clown on a stick" (real item) and physically couldn't handle that combination of words. When I turned around to check if that was for real, he was gone -- walking quickly away to the tent. I was up.
"Hello."
"Hey, what can I get you?"
'First, I would just like to say that your stand is by far the best at this venue."
"Thanks."
"Have you thought about having a separate line for the mango sorbet?"
"I don't think there's enough demand..."
"Oh let me tell you, there is def--"
"JENI JUST ORDER."
"OK, so we are going to have one. Um two. Actually, three. Wait... that's five... six mango-- is it six? Seven? (Beat.) No, six. Six sorbets that are inside a mango, and one Clown on a Stick."
I somehow managed to count out correct tender and went over to meet our friend. We had a group text going with our other friends. Here was the entire convo:
Table. Food. Come.
That communication somehow worked, and a few friends met up with us. We sat in silence, eating our respective mangoes and Clown when suddenly, and I don't know why, I felt compelled to exclaim "I AM SO GLAD I'M WEARING A DISTRESSED JEAN JACKET." I then ignored my friends' confused looks and continued talon-typing on my phone on the table. Let me explain. There was probably something in my mind right then or something from an earlier conversation that then triggered me to quickly chain-ponder to the point where I was really fucking excited about my apparel. A lot of people's minds go A to B or A to C. I'm kind of an A to Q.275 type of person... I don't even really know what goes on up there. I originally thought the band "The XX" was "The Women." I'm basically the emoji of the girl shrugging, right now.
We then discussed how excited we were to see Wu Tang. One friend interrupted -- "What are some of their songs?" To which my friend and I responded by looking at each other, heads cocked, squinting... "Ummmm, you know... no, you'll know it when you hear it. Yeah." Or "Gravel Pit." But I physically could not recall any of their music. By the way, they were horrible. We can just write it off due to the fact there was a SANDSTORM. Sand was in the air, whipping around. It was pretty horrible. So intense, I went to the merch stand to buy a bandana.
"Hi, I'd like a bandana."
"Which one?"
(There were numerous bandanas to choose from. Maybe robbery is really in right now. That, or maybe huffing Vicks when you're rolling is, but not like I would know what that effect does or what? What?)
"Ummm the one with the peach?"
"We're out of that one."
"OK, the purple one."
"You want the Bassnectar bandana?"
"Sure."
I then whispered to my friend "Who's Bassnectar?"
Whoever they are, they saved my respiratory system, and I thank them (him, her?) for that.
We somehow managed to stay awake for Red Hot Chili Peppers. Barely. During their set, my friend and I fell asleep with our heads on each other's shoulders, standing up. That's when we knew it was probably time to go.
The next morning we said our goodbyes, and went back to our real world lives where we handle finances, and accounts, and public perception of companies. Well, that's pretty scary.
I think I can sum up the weekend with this event I witnessed. That slow moving object from day 2? The snail? Some kid was peeing off it.
'CHELLA 2014!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!neveragain.
I could sense the magnetic pull of the festival, and my friends started making their way to gather venue necessities. I lingered around the pool saying, "You know -- they live stream the entire festival. You guys? I said they live stream everything. So we can just lay on a pool float and watch it on someone's laptop. You know... not leave? Just. Stay here?" No one really responded, and later a friend aggressively asked "WHY DID YOU NOT SPEAK UP? I REALLY WOULD HAVE PREFERRED THAT."
Well at this point, you know the drill: walk, bus, judge people, hydrate, off bus, walk, keep hydrating, judge more people, security.
My friend's boyfriend hit the first checkpoint and was interrogated by one of our yellow-shirted friends.
"Any weed?"
"No."
"Coke?"
"No."
"Pills?"
"No."
"Poki Balls?"
"What?"
"Go through."
Poki balls. I'm too scared to google it, but it's probably t-1 day until all local news stations have the "BREAKING" story that all the kids in the US are on "THE POKI." I mean, I kid about being old and out of touch, but once you stop recognizing illicit substances, then you are pretty much of out of the loop.
We then proceeded to play the game "Band or Drug?"
Booka Shade? Band.
Murder 8? Drug.
Tanlines? Band.
New Yorkers? Drug.
Sandwich Bag? Just a ziplock.
Speaking of drugs, KIDS DON'T DO THEM. Or just smoke pot, I don't know. I don't really fancy myself a roll model. Maybe a hand model, but that's it. I made an executive decision to leave a bunch of rolled items back at the house, seeing as I pretty much poisoned everyone I love. My friend's boyfriend who desperately wanted to take the lollipop challenge on Day 2 recounted his experience: "Oh, yeah... I thought my nose ran off my face." And there you have it.
My friends literally hazed me after they found out I only had about 1.5 items. "BUT YOU HAD LIKE 5 MORE BACK AT THE HOUSE!!!!" Well, I got the last laugh. Actually we all got the last laugh, because we physically couldn't stop laughing after finishing only half of one while waiting in line for mango sorbet. The teenaged boy in front of us turned and asked, "Are you guys sick or something?" This probably had to do with the fact we couldn't stop coughing. Coughing, laughing, laughing, coughing, probably crying. If I could sum up Coachella in one experience it would probably be 17 year olds are looking at us, shaking their heads, thinking "Those 27 year olds really can't handle their shit."
The mango sorbet was probably my favorite part of the trip. I couldn't stop talking about it. "It's mango sorbet IN A MANGO. You guys. IN the mango!" Apparently not that big a deal, because I was informed you can get something like it at Trader Joe's. What a wonderful place. You can also get full benefits as an employee! Which is great, because I'm convinced everyone who works there is on hallucinogens and dust-off. We were getting close to the register, so it was time to focus and figure out what we were having. Trying to get anyone in my group to make a decision at this point in time was like herding feral cats. I SOMEHOW became the group representative at the register, which is never going to be the best idea. One friend whispered in my ear that he wanted the "Clown on a stick" (real item) and physically couldn't handle that combination of words. When I turned around to check if that was for real, he was gone -- walking quickly away to the tent. I was up.
"Hello."
"Hey, what can I get you?"
'First, I would just like to say that your stand is by far the best at this venue."
"Thanks."
"Have you thought about having a separate line for the mango sorbet?"
"I don't think there's enough demand..."
"Oh let me tell you, there is def--"
"JENI JUST ORDER."
"OK, so we are going to have one. Um two. Actually, three. Wait... that's five... six mango-- is it six? Seven? (Beat.) No, six. Six sorbets that are inside a mango, and one Clown on a Stick."
I somehow managed to count out correct tender and went over to meet our friend. We had a group text going with our other friends. Here was the entire convo:
Table. Food. Come.
That communication somehow worked, and a few friends met up with us. We sat in silence, eating our respective mangoes and Clown when suddenly, and I don't know why, I felt compelled to exclaim "I AM SO GLAD I'M WEARING A DISTRESSED JEAN JACKET." I then ignored my friends' confused looks and continued talon-typing on my phone on the table. Let me explain. There was probably something in my mind right then or something from an earlier conversation that then triggered me to quickly chain-ponder to the point where I was really fucking excited about my apparel. A lot of people's minds go A to B or A to C. I'm kind of an A to Q.275 type of person... I don't even really know what goes on up there. I originally thought the band "The XX" was "The Women." I'm basically the emoji of the girl shrugging, right now.
We then discussed how excited we were to see Wu Tang. One friend interrupted -- "What are some of their songs?" To which my friend and I responded by looking at each other, heads cocked, squinting... "Ummmm, you know... no, you'll know it when you hear it. Yeah." Or "Gravel Pit." But I physically could not recall any of their music. By the way, they were horrible. We can just write it off due to the fact there was a SANDSTORM. Sand was in the air, whipping around. It was pretty horrible. So intense, I went to the merch stand to buy a bandana.
"Hi, I'd like a bandana."
"Which one?"
(There were numerous bandanas to choose from. Maybe robbery is really in right now. That, or maybe huffing Vicks when you're rolling is, but not like I would know what that effect does or what? What?)
"Ummm the one with the peach?"
"We're out of that one."
"OK, the purple one."
"You want the Bassnectar bandana?"
"Sure."
I then whispered to my friend "Who's Bassnectar?"
Whoever they are, they saved my respiratory system, and I thank them (him, her?) for that.
We somehow managed to stay awake for Red Hot Chili Peppers. Barely. During their set, my friend and I fell asleep with our heads on each other's shoulders, standing up. That's when we knew it was probably time to go.
The next morning we said our goodbyes, and went back to our real world lives where we handle finances, and accounts, and public perception of companies. Well, that's pretty scary.
I think I can sum up the weekend with this event I witnessed. That slow moving object from day 2? The snail? Some kid was peeing off it.
'CHELLA 2014!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!neveragain.
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