Opinion | Making my case for Coachella
As an avid advocate of music festivals, this weekend I will tie my bandana and venture into the desert… for the experience.
What do Clif bars, nail glue and an Amazon pocket blanket have in common? Not a whole lot unless, like me, you’re attending weekend two of the infamous Coachella Music Festival.
Greta Cifarelli, copy editor
While it may sound overkill, I went last year and deem each aforementioned product essential for my fanny pack. Monday began a copious self care routine in preparation for the festival. I have a nail appointment scheduled, last-minute outfit options in my shopping cart and a detailed schedule of each artist my friends and I will attempt to see.
The only things not ready are my debit card and my feet. A $25 bao bun and 10-mile walking day are not for the weak. The sweltering heat and the chilly desert air also make for a ferocious beast.
Do not be fooled by my seemingly impressive music festival credentials. Last year, I bought my Coachella tickets less than two weeks before the gates opened for weekend one, and decided I would drive the three hours back to Orange every night.
Luckily we aborted that plan, because it took us two hours to even get out of the preferred parking lot. Each night we drove 30 minutes to our next best housing option, Motel 6. I even took a trip to the medic tent when my best friend passed out during a set. Don’t worry, she recovered in time to watch the latter half of Harry Styles’ performance.
I’ve been asked why I do this to myself. Is it worth the three hours in traffic and boatload of assignments waiting for me at nearly four in the morning on Monday?
I will always reply, “Yes.”
I am a firm believer in purchasing experiences over items. Seeing live music ignites something in me. Lyrics hold so much meaning that seeing them live, and experiencing them with people I would not otherwise share them with is so special.
Beyond seeing songs that I jam out to in the car daily, the best thing about music festivals is the unfamiliarity. Each festival has a new spin: different artists, fashion trends and atmosphere. I have discovered so many of my favorite artists just by walking past their sets between bands I planned to see.
I saw a brief song and a half of Role Model’s set in 2022 due to a scheduling conflict with performer Still Woozy. One of those songs was called “forever&more.”
This song propelled us through the weekend in a way no other song did. I still listen to it and feel the dust inhalation and exhaustion from that weekend. I saw him twice more that year, awaiting this song and transforming into my best self each time it came on. I owe two of my closest friends to those three minutes of his set.
At the end of last year’s Coachella weekend, my friend and I returned to the dorms with drained bank accounts and impending assignments, to which we declared, “it’s only money, and it’s only a French exam.” One could argue that this is an unhealthy mindset to live by, but as college students, it takes the edge off of the pressure and allows me to maintain productivity rather than stressing over latent doom.
All of life’s burdens slip away when I am at a festival. Coachella makes me behave like a little kid again. Running around with my best friends dressed in ridiculous outfits feels all too similar to trick or treating on Halloween, going from house (stage) to house looking for the best candy (musicians).
The memories that stick out to me from elementary school holidays are the people I spent them with, so above all else, all the glitz and glamor that is VIP passes and gourmet food trucks, I will remember the people I spend that time with.
To my music festival companions, I love you forever&more.
