So my daughter’s been bugging me about this music event called Coachella. Apparently it’s some kind of “day on the Green” / “Woodstock” / “Us Festival” type event they hold in the So-Cal desert every year. It runs for three days, has over 100 bands playing from morning until midnight, art displays, camping… the whole deal… and she wants to go.
Now my first reaction was “I don’t want to go hang out with a bunch of damn hippies!”, and as soon as that thought entered my head I immediately shuddered in fright. It had happened! But when??? I didn’t even see it coming? When did I become an old fart? It’s just not fair! You’re supposed to get a warning before hand right? Maybe some gray hair and a stiff back to mark the road to cranky old timers-ville. And yet here I was, perfectly healthy (and quite handsome I might add), and yet refusing an epic rock show and road trip??? Blasphemy!!!!
So I told her we’d go…. with a catch. She’s got to pay her own way. This ain’t Woodstock. Today’s shows are organized and corporate sponsored, which means they are expensive. But if she’s up for it, I’m willing to go. In fact, I’m flattered that my teenage daughter would even want to hang with her old man. My dad and I never did anything together. So I’m really happy that me and my kid get to do this.
The only bummer is that we can’t camp out, and my daughter was really disappointed by that. She wants the “full Coachella experience” as she puts it. But you have to be 18 and have a valid id to camp. So we’ll have to settle for a motel room. Which isn’t bad, a shower will be nice, but it would have been kind of cool to just rough it together. Maybe in a few years we’ll do it again.
Anyway, Coachella here we come!
