K N O C K E D U P I N I N D I O .
(97) 04.16.2010
The top photo is not actually Coachella, but a beautiful desert scene at Burning Man by Gabriel Jeffery.
Feeling momentarily maternal, (maybe because I'm cat sitting) but mostly due to my two little sisters rushing towards the riotous clash of sweaty dancing bodies in a desert also known as Coachella. Aside for Carolyn's enthusiastic prospect at carpooling her way to winning lifetime tickets, Coachella for me was 2007 and that alone. We piled into a few cars, me at the wheel with Jackie chanting "HYDRATE!" half the way there over the pre-hype Hot Chip soundtracking the slow trek to Indio. So there we were, bubbling around the first beer tent and I'm off scouring for a hotdog only to return to Jackie surrounded by paramedics in an ironically dehydrated heap on the floor. No doubt the surrounding crowd assumed we were the typical first-timers, certainly not paced and prepped for a marathon of music and heat. Beyond that first hiccup, our main objective till the sun went down was a good buzz and bit of shade to some Peter Bjorn and John and Hot Chip in the mid afternoon. By early sunset, we were perfectly set. Losing Sarah and Courtney to a stage side mosh, the rest of us sprawled out on a blanket behind the masses soaking in some Kings of Leon. Knocked Up became my Coachella '07 anthem, seems till this day to perfectly recall that moment with our backs in the grass, successfully not sweating out our recent beer tent mission with the air beginning to cool. With the sun down after our breezy nap I was feeling up to bouncing around to some Arcade Fire, in which Wake Up was nothing short of mindblowing. All in all, the best moments were mixed in between frantic dashes from tent to tent, lazily soaking in some KOL as the sun went down and dancing till my feet just about fell off at the end of it in tent-rave to the Faint, or was it the Rapture?
Feeling momentarily maternal, (maybe because I'm cat sitting) but mostly due to my two little sisters rushing towards the riotous clash of sweaty dancing bodies in a desert also known as Coachella. Aside for Carolyn's enthusiastic prospect at carpooling her way to winning lifetime tickets, Coachella for me was 2007 and that alone. We piled into a few cars, me at the wheel with Jackie chanting "HYDRATE!" half the way there over the pre-hype Hot Chip soundtracking the slow trek to Indio. So there we were, bubbling around the first beer tent and I'm off scouring for a hotdog only to return to Jackie surrounded by paramedics in an ironically dehydrated heap on the floor. No doubt the surrounding crowd assumed we were the typical first-timers, certainly not paced and prepped for a marathon of music and heat. Beyond that first hiccup, our main objective till the sun went down was a good buzz and bit of shade to some Peter Bjorn and John and Hot Chip in the mid afternoon. By early sunset, we were perfectly set. Losing Sarah and Courtney to a stage side mosh, the rest of us sprawled out on a blanket behind the masses soaking in some Kings of Leon. Knocked Up became my Coachella '07 anthem, seems till this day to perfectly recall that moment with our backs in the grass, successfully not sweating out our recent beer tent mission with the air beginning to cool. With the sun down after our breezy nap I was feeling up to bouncing around to some Arcade Fire, in which Wake Up was nothing short of mindblowing. All in all, the best moments were mixed in between frantic dashes from tent to tent, lazily soaking in some KOL as the sun went down and dancing till my feet just about fell off at the end of it in tent-rave to the Faint, or was it the Rapture?
Nostalgia noted, have fun little ones, x.
