Ashes to ashes, ga to ga
“What goes around comes around” -JT
I’m back at Coachella. This year was the first year since I first went that I wasn’t planning on going. The confluence of an old tech friend wanting to get a house at the last minute and new girlfriend who had never been led me to a last minute scramble to make it. In many ways this last trip is like my first trip. I’ve come full circle, ga to ga.
For those who won’t know, ga is short for general admission. GA tickets are the cheapest festival passes. VIP passes, which in truth are anything but VIP and afford modest but useful benefits like bathrooms that are relatively clean in the evenings and the ability to buy even more overpriced but slightly higher quality food, cost a curious 111% more than the ga wristbands at face values. It’s as if the festival planners ran tests and found people of slightly more means would tolerate no more than precisely that price delta, a little more than 2x the normal price to remove the worst discomforts of the festival. For the last few years VIP wristbands were a no brainer for me, besides the odd year when I’d get a free artist guest pass that is much, much better than a VIP wristband. This year I couldn’t afford a VIP wristband. I’m selling crypto to pay my taxes and day trading to pay rent prior to save up for grad school in the fall. I wouldn’t say that having a ga wristband is humbling, because there is nothing humble about attending a music festival that is at its core an endeavor of the 1% and their offspring, but it is a step back.
A step back isn’t necessarily bad. I feel I’ve gone back to my roots. I always enjoyed the mosh pit more than the VIP section. If I’m going to a music festival, I might as well be with the masses. The magic of going to a festival is the energy of the crowd. Why pay a premium to distance myself from the most distinguishing aspect of the experience? That doesn’t mean it’s not hard to step back.
Getting accustomed to privilege is a burden. When a standard is higher set it’s hard to go back lower. I can reframe the change as a positive, and it is. But I can’t forget the feeling that one experience was progress. When you go from a shitty car to a nice car most people appreciate it. Going back to a shitty car after is usually hard. I’m not saying ga wristbands are shitty. But weaving through an unpleasant crowded 30-minute line to get into a tent when I used to be able to waltz in feels like an objective downgrade. We can suffer more in taking equal steps back than we enjoy the step forward. But there’s a comfort in the return.
Nothing lasts forever, we think. I came from ashes and I expect to return. I’ve come full circle from ga to ga. There may be more cycles; we’ll see.
