Coachella – Desert Apocalypse

Indio, CA

Well, I’m back in the dez, and it’s that nutty time of year again … Coachella 2018! Where every hipster on the planet descends on Indio for two weekends in a row of music and madness. Picture massive numbers of young men and women who look like they walked out of the same clothing store, with flower crowns, jorts, fringe-crop tops, huge aviator sunglasses, jumpers, and gold and silver fake tattoos. Kind of like Woodstock-meets-Death-Valley, with multiple stages playing indie and mainstream music, plus multiple tents with house and electronica, deep into the night.

What makes Coachella a cluster fuck is what a shit show the town turns into: battalions of security at Ralph’s Grocery store, cops on every corner, and hundreds of Uber drivers from LA cruising into town to meet the needs of thousands of drunk, stoned, and mollied kids! Unfortunately, they still haven’t figured out how to boost cellular bandwidth to manage the estimated daily attendance of 99,000 people. Can you imagine all the photos, Snapchats, texts, and browsing data being used during this festival? It’s like Shaq having sex with a midget – it just doesn’t fit. There’s just no way to manage all that data going through the pipes, and phone speeds slow to a crawl. So if your Uber driver pulls up even though your map shows him still 10 minutes away, don’t worry, you haven’t escaped the time-space continuum; the data stream is just stuck in a desert traffic jam.

And speaking of Uber, most drivers wrap their interiors in plastic to manage the totally FUBAR’d customers they pick up and drive around … and their bodily fluids. It’s all one big DNA cesspool, and the drivers have to be able to bleach and hose out their vehicles every night! The stories these guys tell after the festival are priceless.

So, if you’re attending this year’s festival, here are a few handy tips from your good friend, Jim.

  • Bring a bandana to wear over your nose and mouth. It gets windy, and the micro dust of the desert will make you and feel like you did bong hits of sand and snorted rails of it off the pavement.
  • Wear a hat and bring a shitload of sun block; the temps are always 90+ degrees, and you will feel it.
  • Drink a shitload of water; dehydration sets in quickly.
  • Hand sanitizer and wet wipes – bring them. Trust me, eventually you’ll run into a stumbling sweaty, vomiting hippie zombie, and you’ll be glad you don’t have to bathe in a port-a-sink.
  • Most important of all, manage your buzz. When you’re two tabs in and you start feeling weird as Ben UFO comes on, control your excitement and pogo height because you will pass out

Coachella Concert

Don’t worry about me. I’ll be sitting right here in La Quinta, sucking down lagers, with my pool, bathroom, and kitchen in close proximity, not worrying about the dust-bowl hippie apocalypse going down a scant two miles away. Have a good time, Kale, Juniper, and Lilac, you adorable little hipsters! Peace!!

If you like stories about the desert check out this story about a landmark restaurant near the Coachella grounds, Cactus Jacks.

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