A pair of flying combat boots thumping your skull while taking in The 1975. Grim visions of a distant Porta-Potty. With a far grimmer reality.
Nobody said being an adult in the room at Coachella would be easy. So we’re here to lead you through the inferno. Just take our hand and trust the process.
You’ll want to be fortified with our Festivals Essentials Bundle. We’ll bring you a kit that transforms you into the MacGyver of spring music festivals. And here’s how it can save your weekend. Especially if you didn’t finagle those uber-VIP passes from your friend at Live Nation.
The only other things you’ll need are a good hat, some shades, comfy shoes and you’re off...
The drive was brutal but you’ve made it. Your entire car of friends is still alive. Before you make your way into the festival, you’ll strap on the fanny pack we’ve provided.
We know. We say “fanny pack” and you run for the hills. But this is a nice-looking Fifteen hip pack (it helps to say “hip pack”) from Herschel that can be worn over the shoulder or waist (it helps to say “waist” instead of “fanny”).
Now, here’s what you’re going to put inside:
Lip balm. You have three days of lip synching to do, after all
The Springsteenian red bandana we’ve included. For dust. And rocking.
Your phone, naturally.
Your keys. Since they get all poky in your pockets and stuff.
With 7 jillion people roaming this same discordantly vibrating patch of earth as you, phones die quickly given the weight of a network straining under a zillion uploaded fish-lip selfies.
Translation: Everybody’s phone dies at this thing. But you brought an external battery!
So, we’re including an external battery for you. It has 3 USB charging ports for whatever you have to charge here or back at the Airbnb. We assume you're staying, because camping at this thing is not for the faint of heart, AKA people over 30. But, if you're super brave, we've got a bundle for that too. Or, stick to the creature comforts of the house, and whip out the floaties for a pre-festival pool party.
You’ve never needed one of batteries so badly. As your Facebook photos of Childish Gambino from 500-feet away will eventually substantiate.
You’re keeping a brisk pace between Wiz Khalifa and Mac DeMarco’s sets when the sand storm descends; a billow of fine powder heated by a merciless sun that chokes anyone who came unprepared.
Moments before the tiny grains can rob of your joy, you reach into the fanny pa—er, hip pack— and pull out your red bandana to form an impromptu cowboy mask under your sunglasses, keeping you safe from the wicked forces of nature.
Later, when you’re trundling back to your car at the end of the night, tens of thousands of feet kicking dust up before you, you’ll revisit this look and give thanks for the seemingly simple invention of a loose cloth you can wrap over your grill.
It was a love that was never supposed to be. They think Weezer is doing some pretty cool things right now. You maintain that they haven’t had a good album since Pinkerton in ’96.
But it didn’t take long before a hand graze turned into ten interlaced fingers. And a cuddle became a kiss. Now you’re sitting side-by-side waiting for Solange to come on when you drape the La Playa blanket we delivered over their goose-pimpled shoulders and clutch them closely.
Sure, a lot of people might call you a hero. But you were really just following your heart.
You guys decide to hit the road early and beat traffic back to L.A. because you can see Ariana Grande whenever you want...on Instagram.
You made it. You’ve survived the worst of the worst that Coachella could throw at you. You danced with your friends in frenzied fits of joy. You purchased your weight in bottled water and felt bad you forgot to bring a reusable bottle. And you remembered why live music is just the best.
You may even do it all again next year.
And when you do, we’ll be here. Waiting in the wings with a fanny pack.