Advanced Haters' Guide to Misery

Pictured: Me at the Sahara tent.

You've seen it all by now.

There is the article that started it all.

There is the follow-up article that responded to a bunch of shots fired from the basic community.

And this article that was just mean. (But how much weight do you given the opinions of some motherfucker named Marlow?)

The gist of these articles is all basically the same. Coachella is full of a bunch of rich white kids getting super fucked up.

Now the general response from the accused has been, "No way am I fucking basic! I listened to Bastille's EP waaaaay before that shit played on The Vampire Diaries!"

I look at it differently. I say, "So what?" So what if Coachella is a mecca of rich white kids getting super fucked up and spending a ton of money that they did (or didn't) earn. That's what they're into, so let them enjoy it.

You wouldn't say "The West Hollywood Halloween parade is full of a bunch of gays frolicking around in crazy costumes and getting super fucked up! ARGGGGHHH" No, that's just what it is. And that's fine, because that's what the people that go to the West Hollywood Halloween parade are there to do. At what point did everything have to elicit some sort of redeeming cultural value? Coachella is basically Spring Break for adults and if you want to save up your money (and vacation days) to go have a debaucherous existence in the desert for 5 days, who am I to stop you?

I suppose I am a tad bit biased because I just got back from the desert yesterday. I am in the midst of recovering from severe dehydration, probable sun and alcohol poisoning and whatever the other substances were that I ingested over the long weekend. I have taken 2 showers today, shaved my 2 week beard off and scrubbed away any remnants of temporary tattoos. I even had the maturity to cut my wristband off today and not walk around for another 2 weeks rubbing it in to everyone that didn't go.

In fact if I combed my hair and put on normal clothes you might erroneously believe that I was a high functioning adult.

And as I neatly fold all of my bro tanks today and put them away until next Coachella season I find myself asking why?

Why do I do this to myself? I am essentially a thousand dollars poorer after the weekend and I don't have steady employment lined up. I will feel like shit until Friday and I have nothing to show for it.

Or do I?

I wrestle around with the idea of happiness constantly on this blog. What is it to be content? What are the things that make me feel good about my place in this world. I've come to the conclusion that it isn't fancy toys. I really have no tangible assets, except for a handful of Apple products I have acquired over Christmases and birthdays, I could likely wear the same wardrobe the rest of my life, so I chose to invest in life experiences.

The memories that came from this trip are priceless. Sure the crowds were annoying, the beer was expensive, but what about the fact that a member of my group broke their foot and continued partying hard for 12 hours. That's almost as impressive as Bob Gibson's famous broken leg game.

But let's just get down to it shall we? How rad was it to stay in a Palm Desert house with 14 people?
There are probably people out there that do not subscribe to the phrase the more the merrier. I happen to live by that motto though, so the fact that we had 3 beds in a house of 14 people did not phase me. Let me set up the scene of how our night would look.

Bedroom 1: One couple (2 people)

Bedroom 2 One couple (2 people)

Bedroom 3: 3 girls in one bed. 2 girls on one air mattress.

Family room: 1 guy couch a, 1 guy couch b, 1 guy behind couch b laying on the cushions from couch a, 1 guy behind couch a on a pool float raft

Outside: Me in a tent*

*Although I slept in a tent Thursday night, I did not put the rain cover up, because it's the desert obviously I don't have to worry about the rain. However, I failed to realize that since there is hardly ever rain there would be timer activated sprinkler systems. Friday morning I awoke to find my tent under siege. Shots fired from multiple directions, water pouring in from the top, I'm certain this is what it feels like to be water boarded. I escaped the tent and decided that sleeping on a floating raft on the floor was probably a wiser decision moving forward.

The nice thing about going on any vacation with 7 women, is that you wake up to breakfast. Believe it or not, there is this strange breed of people that like to get up before noon whilst on vacation, furthermore they don't mind shopping for mimosa ingredients and cooking pancakes and planning Easter Egg hunts. You should always go on vacation with these people. They are the best.

A breakdown of a typical day would look like this:

8:00a - First unit wakes up. I either continue to sleep or improve my sleeping situation by taking a bed vacated by a first unit.

9:00a - First unit returns from a supply run. In my head I am thanking them, but I continue to sleep.

9:30a- Breakfast is ready, I wake up, but decide to sleep 15 minutes longer.

9:45a- I press snooze once more.

10:00a- The alcohol embargo is lifted. First unit begins drinking, someone comes into where I am sleeping and bring me a mimosa. I decide to wake up and have breakfast.

11:00a- Swimsuits on, we play civil war, flip cup, kings, pong, and do awesome diving nerf catches into the pool. Meg Breaks her foot (Sunday only)

12p-3:30 Drinking escalates.

4p - The Blackhawks blow a lead with less than 2 minutes left (Thursday and Saturday only)

4:15p - Depart to sponsored party at Heineken House to continue to drink for free.

5:30- Throughly sauced, stumble into the festival. Put drugs in swimsuit lining. (didn't think of that one did you?)

5:45p-1a Rage.

2a-330a. Slam beers in hot tub.

Rinse and repeat.

It's hard to say what my favorite part of Coachella actually is. Based on who you talk to Coachella is about lots of different things. It's about the music or it's about the art, or it's about the rise of branding at festivals. But for me, Coachella is about laughing at the fucking Applebee's banner flying across the sky and talking to my friends about how much we loved eating good in the neighborhood when we were little. It's about trolling the VIP parking lot for 2 hours in search of a free backstage artist pass. It's about filling Easter Eggs with 3 ounce shooters (attempted, need bigger eggs next year) and it's about spending 96 hours with 13 people that I love to be around. (Ok and it's a LITTLE bit about rolling my balls off during Zedd)

Bloggers of the internet have a problem. They preach acceptance of every lifestyle imaginable under the sun. You read articles about why people should be able to self-identify as a man, woman or cat if it makes them happy. Yet the "douchebags" are not afforded the same courtesy.

If being a "basic bitch" is about doing things that make you happy, singing every one of the words to that one Lorde song you know, dressing up like an idiot in the desert and taking a bunch of stupid ass selfies in front of that astronaut and high fiving your friends when you eclipse 30 instagram likes, losing your SHIT when Pharrell brings Jay Z on stage...

Well then consider me BASIC AS FUCK.

Because here's the thing: All the hipsters and the haters, and the social media trend forecasters and the ultra liberal bloggers that just cannot appreciate MY lifestyle because it doesn't match up with theirs? They're becoming the exact thing they've been preaching against. When I took a moment of pause, to really survey the situation at the festival grounds, I didn't see perpetuators of intolerance, I didn't see any fighting, I saw a crowd of one enjoying a festival together, and I think there is some beauty in that.

You are never too cool to be happy.

But if writing 3,000 words trashing the establishment makes them sleep at night, that's fine. Misery loves company so their articles are certain to go viral on Facebook when everyone that can't go this year tries to shit on "the douchebags who have lost touch with what the festival is actually about"

No I know what the festival is about, at least what its always been about for me. Having a fucking legendary weekend with my friends and making memories that I will never forget.

And there is nothing basic about that.