Personal Notes - Coachella

Training continues in regards to the big Himalayan trek, however, not within the normal conventions one associates when the word "training" is mentioned.

This weekend, I, as well as 11 of my good friends, embarked on an annual pilgrimage to the Coachella Music Festival in Indyo Valley, California. We continued the tradition of renting a house with a pool and jacuzzi in Palm Springs, which serves to prepare the path towards and afternoon and evening of sweat, broken ear drums, breast gazing and pure joy. Each morning, we'd awake to the birds singing and the sun blazing to spend a long hard morning and early afternoon pounding sipping Margs by the pool.

A Marg is similar to a margarita, but, as those who know Spanish, the diminutive suffix ita implies that the noun is something little or adds a description to make it sound less harsh. A night out at the local Chevy's will give you a margarita: crushed ice filled with processed "margarita mix" and a splash of tequila and triple sec.

A Marg is high octane: Patrón Añejo (50%), Cointreau, Grand Marnier, one or two whole limes squeezed to oblivion (in other words, real lime-juice that doesn't come from a bottle), a splash of oj to take some of the tartness away. This must be served on the rocks; crushed ice is for infidels. If you make this correctly, you will not only enjoy one of the most refreshing beverages ever, but you will also get a little more pep in your step. Some have experienced brief periods of aggression, but not enough to equal the full borne aggression an average Philadelphian experiences in their resting state.

The key to a good Coachella, is to hang by the pool all day, loading up on Margs while grilling out and telling jokes. Although the concert starts around 11-ish, we don't show up until 3:30 or 4:30. Walking around in a sea of 200,000 people takes a lot of energy and our group has found this strategy to be optimal if you want to keep going strong until midnight when the last acts are finishing up.

The review of the concert itself is mixed, but mostly good. I'm not one who abhors crowds, but there were just way too many people there. This being my third year, I'd say there were double of the people from my first year and at least another 25% more versus last year. I came to this conclusion based on a metric of data collected as follows: number of assholes encountered (A)/time in concert grounds(Tc) + number of port o potties (P)/time spent in bathroom lines (Tp)/ + number of middle fingers or caustic comments (m^m)/length of time spent getting out of parking lot (T__).

This equation needs some tweaking, because on Sunday night, the asshole factor was multiplied 78 times. I deduced that this number may be in inflated due to the increased assholery of the Rage Against the Machine crowd (like yelling and throwing bottles of water at Crowded House before Rage's appearance).

That being said, Rage Against the Machine was probably one of the best performances there, if you can look past Zach de la Roche calling for the assassination of the current "Nazi" President. But, I never listened to the lame-ass signing/preaching of this perpetual shit-for-brains anyway--I just listen to guitarist, Tommy Morello and drummer, Brad Wilk flat-out rock. The political nature of the members of this band belies the absolute devestation they cause when they're not running their mouths and are just playing their instruments. The ground actually shook when they started their set. I don't care what your totalitarian supporting political tendancies are, for any true rock fan, that universally kicks ass.

Other highlights: the Roots (the way hip-hop should sound), Decemberists, Manu Chao, Paul Van Dyke and, surprisingly, Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Some lowlights: the good folks who run the concert had better get a handle on crowd control, especially in the parking lot after the show. We were literally parked for two hours trying to get out on Friday night. This dreadful experience caused a handful of our team members to remain poolside and skip Saturday's line-up, but it was good for us who went because we had food waiting for us when we got home. Mmmmm, tacos...

Overall, my third year was another great one, and while utopian visions of endless pleasure melt under the 108-degree sun, the good and the bad combine make it more real. A true experience that cannot be devalued due the absence of having to endure something undesirable for it.

UPDATE: I had a bad tag that cut off a paragraph above. Fixed now.