by Eddie Blaylock
Archived blog from the award-winning Goose's Ganders.
Indio, Ca -- Coachella was as wild a time as always. No birds in sight. I was endangered. Eighty-pound waifs were floating in their own vomit. It was quite early still and the angels of golden heat were singing upon the throngs. I have seen it all.
Some people enjoy spending their vacation time inching towards a stage. Stretching to get within spitting distance of a monitor. Whilst traipsing this dense, desert crowd you come across a strange lot. Three dudes worked their way up next to me. They are the type with scowls on their faces, yet dressed like a Hollister ad. One was wielding a large magnifying glass. Either he was a Hardy boy or insect collector. What was in his other hand? A pipe full of chronic, of course. One person offered a lighter. "No no," he replied. Matches? "No thanks." Now, in my time I have seen a lot of stoner Rube Goldberg contraptions. This was the first time I have seen someone smoke a solar-powered bowl.
I had to observe second hand (no pun intended) as this young gentleman attempted to chief not 15 meters from a security guard. The guard was paying no attention, so this lad had plenty of time to attempt his feat. He tried two or three times, appeared frustrated, flailed his arms wildly in an attempt to find the most intense light, and looked at me as if I was from another planet when I asked if he had attempted this before. Finally, like Tom Hanks in that volleyball movie, he was successful in his search for fire. He lifted the crystal-clear glass pipe to his lips and inhaled.