True Tales of the Coachella Curmudgeon
Part two: In Which Our Hero Frees The Damsel In Distress
“Other than that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln?” asked my friend, as I scrambled into his car at 3:30am. In respect to the lineup—which was far and beyond the strongest of the three-day festival, let’s get the “curmudgeon” part of this review out of the way first. Pro-tip: If you drive to the festival, double check the status of your parking lot. As learned the hard way, being waved into a lot, and into a parking space isn’t an assurance that your car will be there when you return. Nor should you be comforted by the complete lack of “hey idiot, we’re going to tow your car”-style signs. And if you are so lucky as to find your car is missing from the lot at 1 am, do not expect much help from the security guards—none who will know what company might have towed your car, or how to go about obtaining said information. (Or for that matter, how to get to any lot on the festival grounds.) In fact, just take it in stride that you will be misdirected a multitude of times during your misadventure. On the bright side, if you do find a friend willing to peel himself out of his warm hotel room in the middle of the night to save your sorry butt, you will be given a ride by security—off the Coachella property to a dark shopping center where if you are raped, maimed, or killed, the festival won’t be liable. GO TEAM!
But enough of that. Let’s talk about the rock. (via Coachella Recap Day 2: Radiohead, Andrew Bird, tUnE-yArDs, Destroyer and More | Under The Radar)