Anyway the day was to start at 6am when I arrived at the subway station for my friend to get to the Greyhound coach station for 6.30am. Like Charlie and his Cat I waited but no-one turned up. I phoned got through to voicemail and then thought right do I leave this person whose ticket I have and dosen’t know where the coach station is to make their own way? After 15 mins I can see them running up the street. I’ve checked the time of the next train – she has three minutes to get up the road across two crossings, down the escalators and into the train. We make it although before we’ve even reached the sweltering temperatures of Coachella I’m already sweating after our Olympic event of dashing.
We reach the Greyhound station at 6.33am. What a weird place that was at that time. There were two other pairs of people going to Coachella. I deduced this from age, luggage and fashion. A man wearing a baseball jacket trying to make the odd bit of conversation without success to anyone. And a man in his mid-late 20’s wearing a vest top and shorts with a carrier back. Strange for that time in the morning I though. Turns out I was right he was strange as in stranger danger call Walker Texas Ranger. He was sat on the row of seats to our left and was shaking and comforting himself by rubbing his hands up and down his arms. He then started saying ‘You can do this, you can do this’. My friend went to get some water from a nearby shop and in that time he started weeping. The other American guy asked ‘what are you crying about’. He pronounced that he was fine. I could then hear him regurgitate the word ‘Pepsi, pepsi, pepsi’. My friend came back just intime to witness him singing. Then out of the blue he turns to our direction with eyes WIDE OPEN as he could and immediately saying in a camp American accent ‘So. Where are you two going’. Almost in a state where if he doesn’t find out the answer a bomb will go off in his stomach. My friend answers Coachella. Luckily a veteran of Coachella now sat next to us butts in the conversation and says he was Big Audio Dynamite last night so without hesitation I talk to him. Always talk to the lesser of potential murderous drifters.
Our coach arrives the ‘Pespi, pepsi, pepsi’ guy leaves to get on it. Now our silence can be broken and my friend and I discuss what just happened. Thank God he is getting on that coach. Oh hang on that’s our coach too! On entering the coach we notice it is full. We start to walk down I spot a seat right at the back. Guess whose sat on the back row with an old woman spluttering out her guts through not being able to smoke for more than 10 minutes. Yes Mr ‘So…Where are you going today’. Abort Abort Abort! Retreat! Use the fire exit! There’s no way back people are behind you now trying to find seats. You have to take it. HA! No I don’t Sir would you kindly move your bag – saved with one row to go. After which the delirious guy gets out of his back seat and walks to the front of the coach and waits for the driver. I guess ‘He couldn’t do it’. I think that Greyhound are much the same as National Express coaches in Britain from what Jon once told about a trip he had up to Manchester on one. I still think that man had accidentally killed someone the night before and was doing a runner.
After changing coaches we get on the ‘proper’ Coachella coach everyone is younger than me, trendier and showing more skin than me (I’m in jeans). Oh look someone has bought their guitar onboard – Great! Can’t wait to hear their rendition of Death From Above 1979. We get some lad or jock shout out ‘COACHELLA BABY WOOOH!’. There was no reaction. Apart from me saying ‘Shut up and sit down’. I’m really in the Coachella spirit. Again I have a seat next to me. About 80% of the coach is young ladies. So the odds on me getting a lanky 6ft spotty guy who bites his nails for the entire journey are about 100-1. If only I could put such a bet on on Sky Bet as I would have been 100 pounds up 5 minutes later. I could not believe he hadn’t bitten down his fingers to a stub by the time we got off the coach. And what did he do with the bits that he did chew off? Did he swallow or spit? Either one makes me gag.
Finally after taking the local sunshite bus we get to the Shadown Mountain Resort. Which on reflection sounds like a holiday camp for evil geniuses. After getting through the Iron gate I spy someone on a golf buggy. I want a go on one of those.
We get to our apartment. Looks fine and leads out to the swimming pool which if this was a resort for evil geniuses would retract across revealing a night night secret lair. The following morning at the resort we go for breakfast by the pool and have two old men playing covers of songs.
They do a version of 'I shot the Sheriff' in which one of them spurts the line after the chorus 'I shot him stone cold dead'. Which made the other one laugh. Although In my head I wished he'd said after the chorus 'I shot that motherfucker in the head, blew his brains everywhere, he ain't getting back up'.
I never checked late at night if a massive laser gun rose up from this pool. But there were a lot of white fluffy cats wearing diamond encrusted collars roaming around the pool area??? Que Thunderbirds music...
I finally unvail my legs by putting on my shorts with my pair of ‘The Who’ conversse trainers/sneakers. Put on my sunglasses (again not since I was 16 have I worn a pair). I felt like Tom Crusie in Topman as my shirt and shorts where from the store. Apply my factor 50 (yes 50 – it actually went up to 100 in the shop). I think anything over 100 works in reverse and makes you whiter. And off I go to Coachella!
After a short walk from the shuttle bus to the entrance I realize that I’ve put my special band on my left hand on not right as instructed in the manual. So I think up excuses incase they point this out to me at the entrance (it was very strict in the manual to go on the right and pointed out if any wristband had to be changed it would cost you $25). So I thought, ‘oh I was in a rush, my friend just gave me the wristband and not the instructions, I’m left handed so it’s easier for me to put it on my left hand (I hadn’t worked out if this would be the case). And finally ‘What fucking difference does it make anyway, look if I put my hand over this here it’s not on my right side more than where my right arm is’. Or finally ‘I thought it meant YOUR right as you look at me not MY right’.
I waltzed in, not literally they only let one person in at a time and it takes two to waltz.
I take pictures of the Ferris Wheel, some balloons, a dome and some stages before watching The Drums, Tame Impala, Black Keys, Kings of Leon and The Chemical Brothers. Before getting the shuttle bus home which plays what sounds like music from a Carry On’ film on the way home. First day done, I put the TV to see on the news the police are looking out for a man wearing a vest and shorts with a carrier bag who is wanted for murder after supplying an overdose to his gay lover. Joking.
The second day I again put on my sunglasses and shots. I'm not feeling a lot more comfortable wearing them. Although looking back on my photos I'm now think I possibly looked totally gay. I believe instead of conveying the Cool Britania look or guitarist of one of the bands taking a stroll around after playing I looked much more like I should have been in the music video for a Wham! video.
As mentioned in previous blogs again I had some trouble seeing sometimes. I've come up with a solution though and from now on I will be taking this to all festivals and gigs.
However one glimmer of hope was one guy standing on something made him really tall and blocking everyones view behind him. After a lot of berating he still did not get down off what ever he was standing on. The crowd then started to throw bottles at him. He backed down - well done everyone I immediately felt a sense of commaradary with my fellow festivalers. Also when other people tried to barge their way through to the front for certain songs and just pushed people over I witnesses on girl PUSH BACK to a point where the guy and his mates were totally flumuxed on how to get by her and her mate. One of them pushed him so hard back I swear he was close to reacting by hitting her. Good on her though I would have just tutted to the person next to me if they'd done it past me.
I also witnessed two people lying in the middle of the fetival grinding on top of each other then the guy just getting out her tits and rubbing them in his face.
Suede were excellent playing all their hits and Brett Anderson going at such a pace and intensity I thought he was going to tear his shirt off and turn green or 'suede' (HA!) before punching anyone in the face. He didn't even stop to say anything about being 'back on these shores for the first time in years etc'. Just went from song to song. It was like hardcor porn. No foreplay just bang bang bang and BANG i'm done see ya! I thought my friend behind me was going to cum though judging by her reaction to seeing them play.
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| suede brett anderson |
I also invented a new game a Coachella which you can play at all festivals. It trying to work out which toilet cubicle has been used the least in the layout of the toilet area. I thought it would be one at the entrance of the area as people would naturally just take a couple of steps into the area first before assessing where to go. Or perhaps it's the first one you see you should go to as people would be put off that one thinking most people would go to that one. Still had to hold my breathe going into each one.
Here's my obligatory 'peace sign' I never know what to do in photos. Although peace broke out immediatley after I made the sign. As you can see I lost both fingers after a freak sunbeam shot down and severed both peace fingers. So I stuck the other two on the other hand back at the sun and say 'F you sun'.
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