2009-08-06 - 10:54 a.m.
Every year the days leading up to Lollapalooza are filled with fear and dread. Not because there aren't any bands that I want to see, but because I obsessively check the weather to see if it's going to rain or be unbearably hot and inevitably it is going to rain and be unbearably hot.
Then, my brain starts thinking about how freaking horrible it is to sit outside for almost 12 hours/day (seriously, I have a desk job for a reason) and how I'm going to get sunburned and dehydrated to the point that I don't even pee during that time. I don't eat, nothing. Slowly killing myself all in the name of seeing some bands.
Then I get on the train and am still unsure why I would do this to myself. Again and again. Year after year. Heck, sometimes I do it more than once per year. This is what I consider fun? Baking in the sun. Trudging mile after mile in pursuit of hearing some music with 225,000 of my closest friends? More like enemies.
I have to pack the bag of essentials. I have to lug that stupid ass bag all weekend long with 2 liters of water in it. I come home covered in sand and dirt stuck to my body because of sunscreen and sweat. I can't even put my tired body to bed until I've had a shower because there is no way I'd do that to my poor bed.
This loathing happens every day of Lollapalooza. Until I'm riding the train home late on Sunday night - all animated and excited about all the bands I got to see and hear. All the retarded tshirts I saw people wear. All the insane shoe choices for three days walking on an uneven park lawn.
And I'm happy and spent. And ready to do it all over again. When's ACL?
