I was so over Coachella for a variety of reasons, I inadequately summarized my experience according to some avid readers. So here we go with the best and the worst of the weekend. May it help those of you headed into weekend 2. 
Chalk it up to nostalgia, but the Violent Femmes were my favorite act of the entire festival. Their playlist included everything I could have wished for and more. They kept it moving and they kept it tight. 
The most unexpectedly enjoyable set was Jello Biafra who ranted his hypocritically anti-corporate message on the unabashedly corporate-sponsored Coachella stage without any sense of irony. 
Everybody splooged over The Postal Service. Maybe it’s the residual Deschanel, but that band is just so precious and twee. I love Jenny Lewis, but I love her more in other projects. Ben I can take or leave. 
Phoenix executed in a major way, but there was something so polished about the performance it almost felt simulated. The random of edition of R. Kelly was surprising for sure. As was Solange’s cameo with The xx, but Coachella needed to squeeze extra diversity wherever possible in their ultra-white lineup this year. 2013 lacked flavor for sure. 
As for the Chili Peppers, Anthony Kiedis is the Keanu Reeves of rock music. He’s a douche de la fromage. Flea rules. 
When you bump me say, “excuse me.” When I politely say, “excuse me,” move your ass and let me through.
Don’t come stand directly in front of me, rudely block my view, and then say, “who is this playing?”
Don’t fucking sing along. 
Don’t shout. I could give a fuck about your favorite song in the set. 
Stop weaving through the crowd holding hands in an obnoxious twenty person chain.
Don’t push. I will shank you bitch.
Sherbert LBC.
Man flower power pant.
Cute elephant shoes.
Stick a dollar in them cheeks. 
Cheese curdles in the sun ya’ll.
A few guys tried to come with some flavor, but more often than not it read as try-hard stunt queen dressing. See gold pants man, colorful leggings boy, and fur hat kid for clear examples of this attention-seeking. My favorite look of the day from a man hands down: I am a Bear. Bright Yellow Bear. Yes Please.
Passion Pit
Modest Mouse
Beach House
Yeah Yeah Yeahs
After finding out my favorite Coachella spot was COMPLETELY reserved by one greedy party for the first weekend, I hit Hotwire in the hopes of finding a hidden deal. Hotwire yielded favorable results for my recent trip through the Pacific Northwest. This time, not so much. 
During this search, I found the taxes and fees bananas, and significantly more than I remember from previous reservations. Usually after a booking, I rush to compare the advertised room rate to the Hotwire rate I just booked. Well this time, with taxes and fees, I ended up paying $13 more than if I had booked directly through the hotel’s site. This has NEVER happened to me before when booking through Hotwire. Usually, I get to look forward to a good gloat. I was robbed of that opportunity, and I’m fucking bitter. 
I love a bargain, but you gotta read the fine print, especially with these NO REFUND sites. $13 isn’t a that big of a deal, but it still just gets my goat. Gouging hotels rates are just the beginning; the entire experience of Coachella = an unbelievable financial racket. 
