525,600 seconds

It's ironic that I chose a musical theater reference as a title for what will be a post about an alcohol fueled bender up in Lake Tahoe over the New Year's Holiday.

For the uninitiated...525,600 minutes is roughly the length of a year, and also the main hook of the song "Seasons of Love" from Rent. 525,600 is also roughly the number of seconds that equate to 6 days, the length of time that I was in Tahoe. So what does electronic music, heavy drinking and drug use have to do with a bunch of AIDS infected Bohemians living in New York in the 80's? More than you might think...

It has been two years since I went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. It was a trip rooted in debauchery, really the only goal of that vacation was to get drunk as possible and survive. After that trip I discussed the joys of the first 3 days, how much I loved New Orleans, how I longed to go back annually...and that drinking on that 4th consecutive day gave me alcohol withdrawal that equated to delerium tremens on the 5th day. It was the worst day of my life. I shivered in a hostel bed dealing with cold sweats and an anxiety attack while two fat people had sex below me...I thought I might die.

But I was young and stupid back then. So much has happened in two years. I've significantly cut back on my drinking, I've trained for a few sprint triathlons, I climbed a mountain, I started paying for my own car insurance, I got dumped by a girl while I was rolling on Molly...I'm older, wiser now. Hell, just last week I wrote a post about how great it was sitting around RELAXING in Indianapolis. Relaxation I thought was just a concept for boring people that didn't want to admit that they did nothing on the weekends. But I get it now. Relaxing is DOPE.

So surely, I wouldn't make these mistakes again. But alas, we planned a 6 day ski trip in Lake Tahoe. A three story, nine person condo...and HEY, we're all from Venice! What could possibly go wrong?

There is one small detail I have left out thus far. The Snowglobe Music Festival also takes place in Lake Tahoe during the days leading up to New Year's. Our condo was a mile away from the venue and almost every person staying with me was in one way or another associated with the promoters.

***

Prologue
We left at 10AM on the 28th. Tahoe is roughly 7 hours from LA, or approximately one Serial binge, five episodes of Doug Loves Movies or 93 plays of Club Going up on a Tuesday. The drive up 395 is beautiful enough, imagine driving from Indy to Chicago but instead of cornfields you go through mountains and all the film sets of 1950's John Wayne Films. Upon arrival I quickly grabbed a beer and explored the grounds of the Lakeland Village. Two hot tubs, two pools and about 500 other people in their 20's checking into rows of luxury condominiums seated on the beach of Lake Tahoe. (Yes there is an actual lake)

The Cast
My cohorts on this trip could in one way be stereotyped to the max in a few words and also not at all. One thing is for certain, everyone lives in Venice and something brought them there...and something brought them here to a rave in the mountains. Among my traveling companions...
The independent film producer
The agency guy
The start-up dude
The architect
The free spirit
The tattoo enthusiast
The actress
The new media hipster

And of course there is me, your unreliable narrator. Of course I could write an entire post on every single one of my roommates, their quirks, hopes and dreams, but let's weave a narrative and see what comes out instead.

Day 1
I went to Tahoe in college. It was a massive trip to Squaw Valley. We rented a ski in, ski out cabin with a bunch of family members I either hadn't met or hadn't seen in ten years. I spent that week drinking Sierra Nevadas with my Australian cousins and trying to keep up on the slopes. (Pro tip: Sierra Nevada in Tahoe is SUPER cheap. Like Shiner Bock in Texas or Lagunitas in SF)

But South Lake Tahoe is much different. There are strips of casinos and hole in the wall chapels lining the California/Nevada border. It's like a wannabe cold Las Vegas, apparently for those who like to Apres their vows. I get it, it's slightly less trashy to elope to the Heavenly gondola than it is to get married in a knighting ceremony whilst blacked out at the Excalibur.

Our hotel featured a free shuttle that would take us anywhere within 3 miles and since I had seen enough episodes of the Real World, I figured if nine strangers wanted to get to know each other, our best bet was to all get wasted at Harrah's. Nothing quite bonds strangers like Marlboro Lights and a Blackjack table.

Most of us broke even, and if you have ever been the guy who drops a few thousand the first night, you know that breaking even is cause for celebration. Cue an afterparty until four in the morning with all parties declaring "FATE BROUGHT US HERE TOGETHER. IT WAS MEANT TO BE!"
It's going to be an awesome trip.

Day 2 (1st Day of Snowglobe)
My hangovers have been getting progressively worse as I grow up. They often last for days at a time, but I don't think much of it. I've always associated it with a cost of doing business. Through my travels I have encountered more and more people who have "given up drinking." When I meet these people, I assume something catastrophic has happened.

"I gave up drinking because I crashed into a bus of 42 children killing them all. My BAC was .32 at the time."

I expect to hear something like that...or even...

"I stopped drinking because my liver has completely rotted, I have chronic pancreatitis and one functioning kidney, one sip could kill me." Similar to the scene in Thank You For Smoking, when Aaron Eckhart is told that one more cigarette would kill him.

Those two aforementioned scenarios would likely cause me to give up drinking. But more and more I encounter people that say, "I just can't bear the hangovers, I don't like how it makes me feel."
Beforehand I would have called them vaginas, but now...I'm starting to get it. Being hungover is awful. It ruins your productivity, it destroys the way in which people perceive you and well...it hurts. Being hungover for three days is something you can do in college, a time in life where nothing really matters, but now? My god, it can ruin relationships. 2015 goal, get less hangovers, by any means possible (even if it means drinking less!)

I woke up the morning of the 29th at 10AM, something that would have been unheard of on ski trips of old. I didn't get on my first chair until 11. But I was alone. Which is fucking spectacular. Skiing alone is one of life's undiscovered joys. No waiting for the group, no deciding which run to do, you just fucking go. Do something harder if you want, grab a beer if you want, hell, try a rail if you want without fear of embarrassing yourself.

Underrated things to do alone,
5. Hike
4. Travel
3. Go to a movie
2. Go to a museum
1. Ski

I arrived back at the cabin at 6pm, it was completely empty. I was exhausted. On a normal ski trip, this would have been the time I took a six pack of heavy beer to the hot tub and chilled out for a couple hours before a late dinner and then out. But this was not a normal ski trip. Instead I found a half empty whiskey bottle with a note pinned to it.

DAVE! WTF ARE YOU? DRINK THIS THEN COME TO FEST. TEAM INCOMPLETE W/O YOU. WE'LL BE AT DISCLOSURE OR SKRILLEX.

I mean what could I do? I wanted to sleep, or at least take a long shower. But this was not to be. Sometimes, you take an Adderall and rally.

Disclosure was underwhelming but I found the homies at Skrillex. "Here take this."
What is it? "Don't worry." Kids don't try this at home.

Skrillex may have started out as a dubstep producer, but he has quietly turned himself into the greatest Bar Mitzvah DJ in the world, and I say that in the nicest way possible. Sure he sprinkled in a fair amount of his hits during the 2 hour set, but I'm pretty sure at some point he played Jimmy Buffett's "Fins" just to make us feel like we were somewhere tropical and not on a frozen tundra. Then again...maybe that was me playing it during our after party. Looking at my phone now I do see that I have Jimmy's greatest hits downloaded, I don't remember that being there. I'm not skiing tomorrow.

Day 3 (2nd Day Snowglobe)
I've never been to Burning Man, but I've heard about some of its ideals. You just bring a bunch of shit to contribute, it is a cashless society. If you are a crazy artist and you are going to do some wild finger painting installation, that's your thing. Another person is the weed guy, another person is the vodka guy and everyone just kind of coexists.

It's something that four year ago me would have thought was stupid. A hippie commune in the middle of the desert? Who the fuck would take a week (or TWO!!) off of work to be subject to 110 degree temperatures and crazy dust storms. I read like a page of Grapes of Wrath and that shit sounds miserable. Because I'm a frat guy, a bro, a capitalist....or I was. I haven't gotten my hair cut in 6 months (I was in like 6th place, Free Spirit hasn't cut his hair in six years) It's like I'm slowly making the transformation to Venice Beach hippie.

I didn't ski. Most of us didn't. We opted instead for an afternoon of drinking and well...drinking. When it was lunch time we opted for a brewery across the street when we invented the game "How many pitchers of bad ass ale can we finish" Spoiler alert: A lot. I think we were kindly asked to leave after we initiated a snowball fight with french fries. I'm not mad, I get it.

Tuesday night was the Porter Robinson show, it was also about 2 degrees out. I don't remember much, sometimes if you drink enough to warm yourself up, you also drink enough to shut your brain off. But fellow members of the so-named A-Team tell me that I was kicked out of the VIP tent and that on the shuttle home I kept demanding that strangers watch Too Many Cooks on my iPhone. I regret nothing.

Around midnight, my memory briefly comes back. I didn't have a bed, so I was de facto the last person awake every night, the afterparty would take place in the family room, on the couch, with loud music...aka my bed. I briefly remember someone yelling, NO we have to finish it ALL tonight. Now, a sane person may have objected to this behavior, but hey I'm on vacation with a bunch of cool new friends and sometimes you just go with the flow.

Day 4 (Last Day of Snowglobe, NYE)
The idea of a music festival isn't new. The most famous from the flower generation is probably Woodstock, but I'm sure there were lots of other smaller more obscure three day music festivals happening at the same time. Just like today I'm sure groups of people would pair together for lodging, or even just a ride across country. Some of them would become great friends, others would never see each other again. It's similar to the film industry, you spend an intense amount of time with someone for a period of days and then it's over. Accommodations may be nicer today than they were in the 60's/70's/80's, hell even Bonaroo, the signature music festival of the 90's is held at a major campground in the middle of Tennessee. We all rebel so hard to prove that we are different than our parents' generation. They don't get it, we tell ourselves. I need something more, buying a house, finding a mate, these aren't the ideals I aspire to have in my life. I want to travel, I want to be different. I'm sure they told themselves this as well.

We must have stayed up until sunrise last night discussing past relationships, career aspirations, travel. It was awesome. But now it's 10AM and I'm being woken up to go ski again. It's ok, I'll sweat it out, that has worked for me in the past.

Oh ya. My credit card stopped working today. I got a call from Chase telling me I may have been exposed to fraud and that my card was shut down for "my protection." Just walk into a local branch and get a new debit card...NBD! (No local branch for 100 miles)

I don't have a credit card, it is a measure I have used to protect myself from myself. You know that consultant friend of yours that is always pitching you batshit vacations because he has unlimited miles, but you say no because your checking balance is in 3 digits and the flight would be 800? THAT is why I don't have a credit card.

Fortunately for me, my Venmo was still working so I paid a colleague and had 100 dollars to get through the rest of the trip.

The last run down the mountain that day I felt a cathartic emotion. Well thank god I don't have to do that anymore. I love skiing, but I'm getting to the point that on a cabin vacation, I would rather snuggle under a blanket near a roaring fire.

Can we watch Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve tonight? Please? No? Flume and Zedd...well, I tried.

Towards the end of a vacation, the alcohol left is the stuff you didn't want to drink early in the week. Tonight's choice? Crown on the rocks (not bad) or tequila. Seemingly only to torture me, Zedd was going on at 630pm, to ensure that I would spend 6 hours in the cold, drinking 8 dollar beers, with my 100 dollars. Could I take the last night off? Or would I spend all of 2015 living with FOMO and regret.

Throw on a face...impress your new friends.

Zedd was great. Odesza was great. Whatsonot let us backstage (hollar at the artist pass!!!) Flume was stellar. I spent the end of 2014 holding my dick with both hands to try to prevent the seemingly inevitable wetting myself. No one wants the first or last thing they do in a year to be pissing themselves. When the fireworks started, one of the event planners handed me a bottle of champagne and wished me a Happy New Year. I took a modest swig and made a beeline to the bathroom.

The line was long, but seeing that I was in distress, I was admitted next. Because that is the vibe here, people care for one another.

DAY 5
I used to think that festivals were just an excuse to party. Don't give me that shit, "It's about the music man." Well the truth is, it is about the party. And also about the music. But mostly about the people. I haven't gotten that much into the people during the previous several thousand words because, well, I didn't tell them that I would be documenting the trip and their actions. I probably didn't even mention my blog. But what I can tell you about these people is that they couldn't have been any more different than me or each other...but also very much the same. Like a group of unique individuals that shared a common bond, a kindred spirit if you will. Although we are all neighbors in the general sense of things in Venice, I may have gone a lifetime without interacting with this crew. But now, we'll have these memories forever, for better or worse...mostly for the better.

There wasn't a lot of movement on the 1st. Personally I was dead. Lots of college football was watched. We tried a mimosa to rally. Nope. We tried to stuff ourselves with salads. Nope. I tried the hot tub, the sauna, two showers. It wasn't meant to be. Sit on the couch and rot, tomorrow we'll go home and everything will be ok.

My perspective through all of this has changed. I used to think people who called things 'chill' were assholes. I used to think if someone described them self as an artist, it meant they were an unemployed trust fund dick head. But say what you will about this lot, they are caring individuals. I've spent my entire life being judged and judging others. In high school, the most important thing in the world is being cool, fitting in. In college all I wanted to do was align myself with the people that would lead to me hanging out with the prettiest girls. I've finally found myself on an island of misfit toys, and I love it. Everyone puts themselves out there. Take it or leave it, this is me. And the truth is, I don't buy into all of it, but what I have always thought was the coolest thing ever is when someone shows a passion for a thing that they are into. The guys that put on this festival fucking care. It's not just about counting the dollars and cents, about achieving relevancy in the music industry. I bet they love putting together this music line-up, curating art exhibits from Burning Man.

The people that I went on this trip with didn't need to look for me when I was lost, bring me a sandwich if I needed to sober up a bit, but they did, because a sense of community is what rules here, and that will be my takeaway from the trip. I remember falling asleep on the floor watching the movie Rango. It's about a reptile who pretends to be something he's not, but then at the end he shows his true colors and everything works out. I think that's a metaphor for life. Be yourself, everything will work out.

Day 6
I took one last walk along the pier, overlooking the frozen beach. It really is a beautiful place here, so calm, yet my God, one of the most reckless, agressive weeks of my life. We're driving home today, a Friday. I wonder if people will aspire to do things this weekend. I think I'm going to watch a bunch of YA movies to push off the inevitability of the real world. Yep, it's a Katniss, Tris and "whatever that fucker's name from the Mazerunner is" kinda weekend for me.

Epilogue

I look back at my hypothesis from the beginning of this entry. We're not that different from the Bohemians in Rent. We're just a bunch of people trying to find our way in the world. Thankfully AIDS isn't as big of a deal anymore. That's not to say that there aren't people among us struggling with addiction, depression...you can find all kinds here in Venice Beach. Homeless, starving artists and all the stereotypical characters that came along for my journey. But that's a cheap way of defining us, there is more to that, each of us hold thousands of stories, unique qualities that will some day unlock the greatness within.

I'm sitting here now reflecting on the trip, my year...asking myself, what do I want to accomplish in 2015? Do I want to meet a girl? Do I want to take a significant leap professionally? Am I happy here?

Ya, for sure. I may never leave. Will I take the leap and try a burning man? Or what about that festival in Costa Rica with all the crazy shamans that poison you with bee stingers to give you a total cleansing experience. I saw they did some cliff diving, that looked cool.

I don't know. I still feel a little overwhelmed by all of these things. I may take a pass on Coachella this year and maybe festivals in general. I'm going to substantially settle down this year, not because I feel that I have to but because my passions are changing, developing. I want to take an improv class, I want to look into some sort of way to give back to the community.

I'm having withdrawal from the weekend still. I've blown my nose so many times that it's starting to bleed, but I feel like this is a godsend, at least I can see a physical manifestation of my illness leaving my body. Maybe it's the company of strangers that I miss. You know, it takes a lot to surprise me these days, but there is a great rush from making new friends, that will never get old.