This is the first time in my life that I have ever ridden Chicago's infamous 'L' train. I am 19 years old and I am sipping out of a truly abhorrent one liter bottle. I've made some sort of screwdriver to go, but thanks to the 100 degree August heat and my inability to procure ice what I am drinking bears a closer resemblance to bath soap than a cocktail.
I'm on the verge of vomiting because I tried to microwave bacon hours earlier to disastrous results. I ate it soggy. I haven't eaten bacon since. To make matters worse, my face is still freshly scarred from a boating accident two weeks prior. I look homeless.
I spent the previous evening chugging shots of 10 dollar vodka with four friends in a Loyola University dorm room. Today is day one of Lollapalooza 2006.
'How many more stops?'
'Uh...14?'
FOURTEEN?
There is a chance I puke raw bacon before I even make it into my first festival.
Against all odds, I rally a bit as we hop off the red line at Lake. Young, drunk and naive is a wonderful way to see Chicago for the first time as an adult. It was a Friday afternoon but seemingly the whole city had taken the day off to celebrate summer.
I would move back down to Bloomington in a week, into a frat house!!! This was essentially my last hurrah after a summer that consisted of getting drunk on boats and coming up with excuses to why I couldn't drive myself to my night shift at Fry's Electronics.
'I told you mom I took Benadryl for my allergies.'
'You know they make a non-drowsy type right?'
I entered Grant Park in awe as I stared down Buckingham fountain. We walked under the massive balloon set welcoming us to Lollapalooza 2006 eagerly awaiting performances from Red Hot Chili Peppers, Kanye West and Blues Traveler (lol)
Upon entry my friend Jack buster out four press passes for us. He had somehow gotten us all credentialed through The Booze News and due to some security confusion we ended up in the artist lounge drinking Strawberry Daquiris during an Umphrey's McGee set.
The rest of the weekend was a blur, at times I ended up sleeping in train stations. I followed a homeless man to University Park attempting to score some weed. I snuck in through a window of a bar that I would later come to know as Gamekeepers and of course I jumped in the fountain after RHCP's encore of 'Give it Away.'
I drove back to Indiana the next day (stopping at the Merrillville Portillo's of course) knowing that my life would never be the same. I had never been a big music guy. I mean I woke up at 5am to go buy College Dropout the day of its release so I could listen to it before school, I've seen Dave Matthews 30 times...but it wasn't until I realized that there was a whole sub culture of getting drunk in a giant field that I really cared.
Five Lollas, Five Coachellas, Three snowglobes, a north coast, a couple Hards, a CRSSD...
I've jumped fences, I've bribed guards, I've paid coyotes to smuggle me across the border.
I have mastered the act of recklessly drinking in a field. I have made three day festival girlfriends and I have probably bagged enough UV rays that I will meet an untimely end at 65...
But last year I kinda decided I was done.
I get three day hangovers after drinking beer at a ski cottage. Imagine what would happen if I was sleeping in dirt, chugging Gran Legacy and shoveling non descript pills in my mouth for 96 hours.
I don't even think a rehab facility would take me, they would probably just direct me to the nearest hospice and give me the number for a priest.
And to be honest, I'm not that mad about it. I don't need to see Lady Gaga pour blood on herself in a few weeks. I am no longer interested in what Lorde is doing down at the tennis courts and I certainly do not know or care what the fuck a Father John Misty is.
I aged out. I'll have to stick to my OAR/Train concerts at the Hollywood Bowl where I can smugly drink my red wine and sing along to songs that I swore to my mother that I would always hate.
And as much as I will always long for...
Wait a second.
Hold on, I just got a text.
*Lollapalooza line-up released*
Oh The Killers eh? Man they had a great OC cameo.
Chance the Rapper? Never seen him before.
Fucking Blink 182?
I CARE ABOUT MUSIC AGAIN.
Chicago was the first city I ever fell in love with and then I abandoned it to chase a dream and escape the winter. but after 6 years I'm hoping Grant Park will take me back, to the city where it all began.
***
A tear runs down my eye as I leave the Foo Fighters show. It's 2011 and this is my last day in Chicago. I packed up everything I own in my brother's Trailblazer. I have my first day of work in a few hours in Indianapolis, the Chicago era is over. After a couple weeks of training in Indy I will move to LA forever.
'I can always come back.' I tell myself, but I know I won't. This is it.
How quickly three years went by. All the friendships forged, all the memories. Jesus, I almost got arrested re-entering the United States on a private jet that one time. That was wild. I can't wait to tell my grandkids about that some day.
I walk out of Lollapalooza for presumably the last time. It's raining hard as I start driving east down the 94. I stop at the Merrillville Portillo's, it's closed.
Complicated feelings arise as I think about every decision that led to me driving down i65 at 3 o clock in the morning on a Monday. I'm only 24. I have my whole life ahead of me, but it feels like I've lived a pretty crazy half decade.
I pull into my parents house at around 5 in the morning. Sleep for an hour and go to work.
"Did you ever think about skipping Sunday and maybe getting some rest before your first day?" My dad asks.
"No, last Lollapalooza. Had to make it count."
Little did I know that six years later I wouldn't grow out of it. I would still firmly have a passion for drinking heavily in wide open fields. I would still be jumping up and down wildly screaming 'so I guess this is growing up.'
And besides...a leather couch is much more comfortable than sleeping under the sun in Indio right?
I guess I'll just keep telling myself that. Lolla 2017, I'm coming for ya.
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