The excitement and curiosity of our family’s trip last weekend to Coachella rivaled the Griswold’s trip to Wally World in the movie Vacation. Notably different, they arrived at a desolate amusement park, and we arrived at a hopping music festival!
Coachella Cast: my husband Yehuda, two children – Eden 14 and Kobe 11 – and my brother Steve and his wife Pam. Many of you are shaking your heads thinking what kind of family trip is Coachella? If you love music and are up for an adventure, Coachella rocks!
My husband Yehuda was eager to check out Coachella and like a typical teenager prepared the correct festival wardrobe. He had a great attitude and went with the flow: sitting on dirty fields with tens of thousands of other, dancing in loud DJ tents with sparsely dressed young people, waiting in line to buy food from designer food truck and enjoying the diverse loud music. Coachella is definitely for the young and the young at heart!
Eden true to her style had the perfect Coachella wardrobe designed weeks in advance and at 14 was mortified to be seen with her family in day light. As we set foot on the polo fields, Eden quickly bolted to hang out with friends from school, texting regularly to check in. At nightfall the fields were masked by black skies and she was back by my side. For weeks leading up to the festival Eden complained that I was making her join us, but by the end of the weekend, she thanked me for ‘making her come’!!!
The heat and the crowds of Coachella reminded me of a Fleetwood Mac concert that my brother Steven took my to in 1977. All these years later and a bit weathered, our youthful enthusiasm for crowds, dust and real live musical performances had not waned.
From Boston 3000 miles away, my daughter on lockdown and exhausted by terror texted and called; She regretted not taking me up on the invitation to join us at Coachella.
As I looked around Coachella, I was dumbfounded: ‘Here I am enjoying music and fresh desert air with 80,000 young people, while 3000 miles away, two young men full of hate killed, maimed and held hundreds of thousands hostage’.
Kobe, my passionate musician, was truly in musical Candy Land. Every venue featured another alluring musical delicacy: He swayed to the beat of Passion Pit, Portugal, the Man, Two Door Cinema, and danced to the bright, pounding beat of DJs Fedde Le Grande and Benny Benassi in the Sahara Tent.
On Saturday afternoon as Kobe and I walked to hear a band in the Gobi Tent, he squeezed my hand and said, “This is the best, just you and me listening to music together.” I lavished in this moment fully aware that in a few years when he says, “Drop me off. I’ll see you later” I will need to recycle this blissful statement.