Rage Against the Machine was amazing. Wow. I wish I could adequately describe what it felt like to stand there in the warm desert air under a beautiful full moon, packed body to body with thousands of other sweaty Rage fans, desperate to hear the world's best band get back together and play.
I'll try my best.
When 10:20pm hit, my butterflies started kicking in. I did a good job of watching my fluid intake (so I wouldn't have to pee every two seconds and endure the crap holes--otherwise known as port 'o potties), staying away from the overpriced, greasy food (to avoid getting the shits and therefore avoiding the crap holes again). But I started feeling antsy and I couldn't just stand there and wait. I had to do something. My stepbro Paul and his lady Kristina decided to wade through the crowds and get closer to the stage. Since I thought I was muy chingona, I nudged Michael so we could follow them. I can hang, I can do this! As Michael and I started walking with Paul, I turned my head and said, "Ooohh, I want a Hagen-Daz!" and in a second, the crowd swallowed up my husband. In a panic, I called to Paul to hold on as I searched for Michael. I could not find him! I had a second to decide...turn back and look for Michael and possibly spend the rest of the night by myself without my phone (Michael had mine in his pocket) and no money (I spent my last few dollars on a freakin' shaved ice) and absolutely no memory of where we parked (Lot 3, by a big tractor, or was it a barn--either way it reeked of horse manure). In a panic, I stayed with Paul and Kristina. Paul was merciless as he made his way through the crowd. I asked to borrow his cell phone and as we walked, I tried to dial his phone in the darkness. Then, in a very surreal moment, I found myself falling down to the ground. Duuude, I'm falling! Turns out I tripped over one of the hundreds of bodies laying around the field, blissfully asleep after hours of being in the scorching desert sun.
"Oh, my bad, homie. Sorry!"
Poor guy. He got the full force of me falling on him, knees first. Ouch. Imagine waking up to that. Heh. Once we got to a point where it seemed there was a wall of non-moving sweaty bodies, I started to freak out. I could just imagine the chaos that would start the minute Rage stepped out onto the stage. When you are a female and in the pit, it sucks for you because, being shorter than the men, you are practically at arm-pit level and there is no fresh air at all. Just hot steamy, stifling air. I pulled Kristina and said,"Hey, I can't go any further!" "You big sissy!" she laughed at me and then I watched her get swallowed up by the crowd, too. I made my way safely back to where I prayed my brother and his pregnant wife were still sitting. They were. And Michael was there too. Whew. Michael and I tried to move up again, as close as we possibly could without the threat of being trampled. I could barely see the stage over all the dreadlocks and the tall, skinny pimpled youth. I'd say the drumkit looked about a half-inch big. Yeh, sucks for me. I consoled myelf with the assurance that I have seen them play countless times before, about ten feet in front of me. I just wanted to be there to hear them again, to experience it all. Bless those huge monitors because that is what saved the show for me. I kinda had a little panic moment when I realized just how many people were there (some 60,000 more for just Sunday's show alone). Then the stage got dark and on the monitor showed the guys walked up the ramp, with Zach at the tail end, jumping up and down. I lost it. I started screaming and jumping and basically looking like one of those crazy girls at a Beatles concert, tearing her hair and crying and carrying on. Well, not really like that but you get what I'm saying!
Boom, they started the set off with "Testify". The energy of the crowd, the reality that I was finally seeing Rage after eleven long years, seeing Zach's 'fro...it was just amazing. They played "Bombtrack", "Bullet in the Head", "Township Rebellion", "Bulls on Parade", "Renegades of Funk", "Calm Like a Bomb", "Sleep Now in the Fire", "Down Rodeo", "Guerrilla Radio", "People of the Sun", "Take the Power Back", "Know Your Enemy"--which I was eager to see if Maynard would come on stage and sing his part, but his didn't--"Wake Up" "Killing in the Name" and "Freedom". To hear an entire crowd of thousands chant, "HOW LONG? NOT LONG! BECAUSE WHAT YOU REAP IS WHAT YOU SOW!!" 
A couple of times I really thought people were just going to riot. I held tight, but then it passed. I felt sorry for the people up in front, in the pit. It looked like a field of wheat, with an occasional body popping up and then getting yanked down by security. Throughout the entire night I felt like I was going to puke because I was so damn excited. The sound was a little low at first and I could hear the deep house beats from the dome in the background, which distracted me. But after a couple of songs, they adjusted the sound and it was deafening, just how I like it.A few highlights:
The funny (aside from me falling on that poor guy): As soon as we pulled in, I had to pee. Cursing myself for not pulling into the Ralph's shopping center, I resolved to use the port 'o potty in the parking lot. Michael opened the door and surveyed the damage and then looked at me and said,"There is no way you will be able to walk in there without puking!" So we walked further down the parking lot where no one was around and Michael told me, "Pee right here, in between the cars." I said, "Are you crazy? I can't pee right here! Someone will see me." "No one is going to see you! Hurry up!" I think of that filthy port 'o potty and decide what the heck. I bent over and pulled my jeans down and planted my fat butt cheeks against a blue SUV covered in dust. Awwwwwww. Michael handed me my handy dandy butt wipe and I was good to go. As we walked away, I laughed at my butt print left on the car.Then I thought, Ew, I forgot to wipe the dust from my butt...oh well!
The cool: As we waited in line for a shaved ice (outrageously overpriced at $4--and it wasn't even all that), Michael spotted one of the t-shirts that he designed about eleven years ago. On the front, el Quinto Sol, and on the back Aztec Drumms Mexica Humms. It was old and tattered and it was covering a propane tank. I walked over to where these dudes where bbqing chicken and I asked, "Whose t-shirt is that?" When they pointed out the owner I asked him,"Hey, where did you get that t-shirt?" He said, "I bought it in the parking lot at a Rage show about ten years ago." I smiled and said, "That was in the parking lot of the Palladium--my husband designed it and he was slanging them while I was inside watching the concert that night! How cool is that!??!" That really made Michael's day, to see one of his designs still around. He still has the screen and plans to make more shirts just like it. The guy gave us his card and wanted to order more of them. Awesome.
The bizarre: I have never seen so many freaks in one place. I saw one girl in black panties and a black bra with fishnet stockings and giant, platform black patent leather boots. Dreadlocks everywhere. Half-naked people. Sweaty, sun-burned to a crisp people. People passed out everywhere, asleep with their mouths wide open in the middle of a grassy field. All the drunk people pretty much stayed in the beer garden. Reefer Madness!! There were huge outdoor sculptures and the people thought they were places to sit down and get high. I got a contact high from being around all that mary jane. But the blatant drug use was unpleasant, something I haven't experienced since I was in college. The constant smell of weed was upsetting my stomach even further. Lightweight, I know.
The ridiculous: We left Riverside about 3:00pm. We didn't walk into the turnstiles at Coachella until 6:45 pm. I missed The Roots. Suck. Then at the end of the night, it took us two and a half hours to get out of the parking lot.
The spooky: I found out today, after reading blogs and reviews, that all during Day 3 there was talk of a riot and breaking down the barricades after Rage finished their set. Oh holey crap. If I would have known that, I don't think I would have enjoyed myself as much as I did.
The humorous: By 2:45am we realized we were starving. Finally found food at Jack in the Crack just outside of Palm Springs. We laughed as we tried not to fall asleep while eating our .99 tacos (from the contact high) and asian chicken salad.
The scary: Both Michael and I couldn't keep our eyes open at almost 4 am, when we pulled over before Cabazon to get some sleep. My brother calling me on my cell phone startled me awake. He said the drive was horrible and foggy. But he made it home. I got a little bit of adrenaline and decided to get behind the wheel. Big mistake. As soon as we entered the Badlands, fog came out of nowhere and I could barely see in front of the van. I slowed down to about 40 mph and that still seemed too fast to me. I punched Michael in his leg to wake him up so he could calm me down and coach me through the fog. "Ohhhhhh my Gooooooood." He said as he jolted awake. "Pull over! I will drive." But it was so foggy and so dark all around us that I couldn't tell if there was a turn off until it was right there and by that time it was too late to pull into it. There were lines of big rigs and cars pulling over. I finally decided to take a chance and pull over. I ended up about a hundred yards or so in front of the side of the mountain. I almost smashed right into it. Michael said, "I can't believe you just did that." I yelled, "You wanted me to pull over, right?" As we jumped off and switched seats, it was pitch black outside and freezing cold. Scared the crap out of me. As soon as Michael got behind the wheel, we exited the Badlands and the fog lifted. But I was so spooked I couldn't go back to sleep. The hardest stretch was driving down Central Ave. to our house. Wow. It was a struggle. Being so close to home yet being soooo sleepy. But we made it. My body hit the bed at 5:15 am. And today I got a glimple how alcoholic mothers function. I slept off and on as my kids made themselves sugar and cinnamon toast, watched Nacho Libre and cartoons and made themselves more sugar and cinnamon toast. They survived.
But mommy got to see Rage, so it was all worth it. I would have never endured Coachella if it wasn't for seeing Rage reunite. And now, we wait for August to come so we can go to Rock the Bells in San Bernardino. Yessssss.
