A most excellent festival weekend

What a morning. Just getting to Coachella has been an adventure in itself. I won't tell the long story of how I almost missed my flight or how the landlord of our Palm Springs rental screwed us at the last minute and then how one of my friends saved the day and found an even better place for the nine of us.

But now, here I am, sliding north on Interstate 15 out of San Diego, listening to my friend Greg's Coachella mix, with "America's Finest City" in the rear view and three days of music mayhem about to unfold.

As we pull up to condo, Greg and I are the first to arrive. We unload our bags, sit down poolside and bust out the lineups and the brews. Others begin to arrive, and the only topic of conversation is this band or that, details about band personnel and repertoire, what we hoped to hear. I am up to my eyes in music homework and loving it.

It was the beginning of a perfect weekend with friends and unbelievable music. True, the two aspects didn't always mix. Contrary to the house hopes, we were never the ones standing in line as Coachella opened its gates at noon.

With nine individuals to coordinate, a pool, and a fridge full of food and alcohol, I'll confess that we didn't make it till 2 p.m. on Friday and Saturday, and after a late night card game, not till 4 p.m. on Sunday. — Dustin Mitchell