eave it to a last-minute decision to bring me back to this Blog of Neglect. I missed out on pre-sales and the general sales for Coachella this year, and figured it’d be just as well. While it’s the most fun music festival for me, I’m not compelled to go every single year. But then I woke up to a Facebook message offering a last-minute ticket and I was like: YOLO.
This message came in yesterday and we will be landing in the polo fields of Indio tomorrow. This is the most whirlwind Coachella attendance I have ever pulled off. Typically there is airfaring, hotelery, and cohort recruitment involved, but this time I’m just approaching it like I fell into it (since I basically did). At time of writing, I haven’t even looked at the stage schedule, but thanks to having three previous Coachella excursions, I’ve practically got this shit locked into my muscle memory:
- I’m not giving a fuck about clothes this time. Last year I planned out my outfits because I had months of preparation, and this time I basically mapped out the three-to-four easiest one-step outfits in my head. AKA: Mostly summer dresses. (Conveniently they are just this side of relaxed-I-don’t-mind-sitting-in-the-dust boho. I’ve never been good at striking that 90s-hippie thing that seems to define “Festival Style” anyway.)
- Coachella 2012 was the first time I’d ever been to a rainy Coachella. It threw off my A-game, because I don’t know how to handle desert clothes plus rain clothes. As a precaution, I ended up wearing knee-high army boots all weekend, and it turned out that was The Secret: Tall boots. Not fuzzy raver knee-high boots. Not thong sandals that cut your toes off when you’re being trampled by the crowd headed to the parking lot. Not heels. I don’t care if you can afford VIP or if you’re camping on stage: Who wears heels in the desert? And, most notably: Not barefoot. The dust. The litter. The discards of who-knows-what in the port-o-potty tent. I’m going for the music, people, not going to contract bird flu.
Electronic Energy Conservation
- All of you at the Corporation-Sponsored Recharge Station? I laugh in your faces! Last year texts were chronically late to the inboxes of the members of my group. That is, of course, if they were received at all, as phones were dying by the time bigger names started taking to the stages. I didn’t have a problem, though. Know why? Because of my ugly clunky mobile charger: My New Trent charger (newer version linked) has gotten me through airwave-clogged conferences and weekend trips without a worry about my battery status. Charge it up once and it will power your iPhone for multiple cycles. It’s rare that I’ll even see its power bar fall to the lowest setting. You can switch up the cabling, use it for multiple devices, and Be the Connecter. Also, because it’s ugly and clunky, it has never been stolen. Score!
- Another Pro Tip for saving battery is to set the day’s schedule as your iPhone Lock Screen. Instead of swiping on, typing in a passcode, cuing up the Coachella app, and waiting for your signal to fight all other signals, just tap the iPhone screen on, find out who’s next in the Gobi tent, and carry on like “Prochella” is a word.
- I mentioned recently how my consumption of Salt Sugar Fat has skyrocketed since the Super Bowl. I don’t think I’m being paranoid and I don’t think this is a coincidence. This weekend is actually the perfect excuse for me to kick off a fast that my body’s been needing. This means bringing fruit, replenishing my water, and avoiding the typical festival fare. I may end up breaking for a food truck, but based on last year’s experience of a gyro over the Weeknd (My stomach was singing along.), I will not be missing much if I just skip the fast food.
- Unintentionally, I nearly pulled off this fasting idea at my first Coachella in 2004. The temperature ranged between 112-114 degrees Fahrenheit over two days, and I was rapidly dehydrating. That entire weekend, I consumed nothing but water, frozen lemonade, and one smoothie (the most solid food of my trip). And I didn’t go to the restroom. Once. I drank all that water and iced up fruit and I never had to pee! That’s how intensely hot it was. This weekend’s forecast is 91-97 degrees, and I welcome the sun to burn up the extra calories on my person.
So anyway, even though my blog frequency doesn’t imply it, I’m still very much alive and I’m going to Coachella this weekend. Since I planned zero coordination with fellow attendees, please hit me up if you’re going! Would love to see you. Hot sets!