In Defense of Zoos
Today I bought a t-shirt for my sister from a site called africanelephants.org. It's a site that tries to monitor elephants in zoos across the country, hoping to relocate them to sanctuaries and better living conditions. I fully support this goal. I know that keeping elephants in captivity has long been a controversial topic--not just for their own well-being but for the well-being of humans as well. It's dangerous to keep male elephants, who are extremely strong. I know this because I have volunteered at the Brookfield Zoo in Chicago for years. Years, we had a male elephant who hurt a keeper and we haven't had one since. But I think the jury's still out on whether or not all zoos, even the ones with nice accommodations for their elephants, are bad for elephants. I'm willing to view the evidence either way. But I'm wary of people who just say all captivity is bad for all animals.
So after going to that site, I started to look at the arguments of people who think zoos are bad, period. They argue that captive breeding programs are bad, and animals were breeding long before we got into the picture. They say zoos don't provide a proper environment for conservation attempts, they talk about substandard habitats, they say zoos take animals out of wild environments. They even contend that we zoo educators mislead children about wildlife and the care of animals, and that zoos are only around for entertainment.
The enemies of zoos have a point. Yes, animals have been breeding a long time. Yes, animals should be kept as close to their natural environments as possible. But the world has changed, unfortunately, thanks to the presence of humans in every corner of the globe. Many habitats no longer exist, or they're getting decimated every day. Breeding places no longer qualify as appropriate places for animals to rear their offspring. What would you have us do in that situation? Let them die out without even attempting to save them? By the way, zoos always keep excellent records of genes in the captive population, so that we can breed animals with a diversity of genes. Unfortunately, most of the information zoo opponents offered as examples of breeding failures was out of date.
Maybe there are zoos out there that don't take good care of their animals, and that don't have enough space to give them really good places to live. Well, this is often a problem of finances, not of desire. I know that at my zoo, the pachyderms don't have particularly good indoor spaces. I've been hoping for years that people will give us money to update the exhibit. Instead, we had some people offer to fund a whole new building--the Hamill Family Play Zoo--and they earmarked a bunch of funds to do that. If people would support zoos instead of tearing them down at every opportunity, we'd have that space already.
It's probably true that many of our animals come from the wild. For example, in the swamp, we always get birds that have been rescued and can no longer live in the wild because they're missing a leg, or their wings are broken. Many of these injuries have been caused by humans. But many animals in captivity today are not wild-caught. And the ones that are, for whatever reason, bring new genes into the population that may help the species survive in the future.
Some other examples of the good zoos can do: We gave a performing gorilla named Ramar a whole harem of female gorillas. He'd performed alone for much of his life. Now he has five or so females and a son--and another infant on the way. I think we've given him a new lease on life. Also, though we have people who complain because they want to see a "good" dolphin show, we recently canceled a dolphin show because the animals didn't feel like performing. When there's a possibility the animals will get too stressed, like when one is pregnant, we don't do a show. See? We're not all bad.
Yes, zoos are there for entertainment. But from what I've seen of zoos around the country, they're more about education. People can blame zoos for misleading kids about wildlife--but it's more likely what kids see in real life and on the Discovery Channel and other TV programs that do it, not zoos. These days, kids do develop a familiarity with animals that they haven't had before, and they think nothing of putting their hand out to touch the wild gray wolf. But that's not solely the fault of zoos--it's helped by other factors, such as shows like "The Crocodile Hunter."
The last item I take offense at is that we mislead people about animals. Actually, we don't. We volunteers, and the trained keepers, know a lot about animals. No, we don't know everything, but we also don't lie to children if we don't know exactly how long an alligator can stay underwater. We love animals, we're enthusiastic about them, and we mourn when something happens to them. I take a lot of pleasure in teaching people about animals, and I can't imagine that the opponents of zoos would ever have seen a real live sloth without their local zoo around, either.
I think of zoos as a necessary evil. I wish we didn't need them, but the fact is that we do. People who don't believe that are being purposefully naive about the way the world works, and the effect humans have had on the earth.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
An Open Letter of Apology to Iraq and the World,
From a U.S. Citizen
I love my country. I love its beauty, its cities, its people. I love the ideals we hold--freedom, human dignity, privacy, peace. I think that most of us strive to uphold those ideals around the world.
But I've always known that there were bad people in the U.S. Today, it seems that most of those people run the government and the military. So I would just like to say, I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I hope that people of the world can separate Americans from their government. I hope you understand how appalled most of us are about what we've done in Iraq and Afghanistan and Guantanamo Bay, from the prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib to the arrogance of our presence there. I hope you understand how sad and angry many of us are every day when we see a new headline about more terrible stuff we did, or more photos of Iraqis who have been tortured. I hope you feel, as I did, the outrage when I was listening to the hearings and some of those senators (Republicans) seemed to say that the human rights abuses were justified if we got the information we wanted. Such horrible actions can never be justified. I am ashamed of this administration. I believe that the abuse was sanctioned by people higher up, and I believe that our president, by flaunting the rules of the Geneva Convention all along, is as culpable as the soldiers in the photos. I disagree with my government, and it is my right to do so.
I also believe that many of people responsible for this travesty will never be brought to justice, because there's so much finger-pointing and trying to assign blame and trying to avoid blame. So on behalf of all the people here in the U.S. who feel as I do, I apologize. I apologize to our allies, who will be hurt by this because they chose to stand by us. I apologize to our enemies, because no matter what you have done to us, we're doing worse to ourselves by destroying the ideals for which we fight. I feel like I can't apologize enough. This is because our government won't do it and I am deeply ashamed at our recent actions around the world.
Before the Republicans yell at me for treason, I'd like to say that I love my country, and I love the promise my country holds for everyone--not just Caucasian white Christians. I think the people in this country, more or less, are good people. Maybe a bit stupid, but good. And that's why we've all been so shocked by what's going on in Iraq. I hate to see people despise the U.S., and it's even worse when they actually have a good reason. All I want is for us to do right by the world, and to live up to our own ideals. I'm not trying to destroy the U.S. from within; I'm trying to make it stronger.
So I apologize. And we're trying to make it right. This November, many of us will show our anger with President Bush and his cronies by voting him out. I hope you understand that this act is a statement on our part that we are not like him.
From a U.S. Citizen
I love my country. I love its beauty, its cities, its people. I love the ideals we hold--freedom, human dignity, privacy, peace. I think that most of us strive to uphold those ideals around the world.
But I've always known that there were bad people in the U.S. Today, it seems that most of those people run the government and the military. So I would just like to say, I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I hope that people of the world can separate Americans from their government. I hope you understand how appalled most of us are about what we've done in Iraq and Afghanistan and Guantanamo Bay, from the prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib to the arrogance of our presence there. I hope you understand how sad and angry many of us are every day when we see a new headline about more terrible stuff we did, or more photos of Iraqis who have been tortured. I hope you feel, as I did, the outrage when I was listening to the hearings and some of those senators (Republicans) seemed to say that the human rights abuses were justified if we got the information we wanted. Such horrible actions can never be justified. I am ashamed of this administration. I believe that the abuse was sanctioned by people higher up, and I believe that our president, by flaunting the rules of the Geneva Convention all along, is as culpable as the soldiers in the photos. I disagree with my government, and it is my right to do so.
I also believe that many of people responsible for this travesty will never be brought to justice, because there's so much finger-pointing and trying to assign blame and trying to avoid blame. So on behalf of all the people here in the U.S. who feel as I do, I apologize. I apologize to our allies, who will be hurt by this because they chose to stand by us. I apologize to our enemies, because no matter what you have done to us, we're doing worse to ourselves by destroying the ideals for which we fight. I feel like I can't apologize enough. This is because our government won't do it and I am deeply ashamed at our recent actions around the world.
Before the Republicans yell at me for treason, I'd like to say that I love my country, and I love the promise my country holds for everyone--not just Caucasian white Christians. I think the people in this country, more or less, are good people. Maybe a bit stupid, but good. And that's why we've all been so shocked by what's going on in Iraq. I hate to see people despise the U.S., and it's even worse when they actually have a good reason. All I want is for us to do right by the world, and to live up to our own ideals. I'm not trying to destroy the U.S. from within; I'm trying to make it stronger.
So I apologize. And we're trying to make it right. This November, many of us will show our anger with President Bush and his cronies by voting him out. I hope you understand that this act is a statement on our part that we are not like him.
Monday, May 17, 2004
Trying to Conceive
Now that my husband and I are trying to have a baby, I find myself frequenting Web sites that discuss the best ways to get pregnant. And I have decided, after reading the detailed information at these sites, that there's a conspiracy going on.
This insidious conspiracy is designed to take all the fun out of life and out of sex for the duration of your pre-conception period. By charting every minute of your period, your temperature, your discharges, you turn yourself into some crazy obsessed mom wanna-be, yelling (only at the appropriate time of the month, of course), "Okay, I'm ovulating, we have to have sex now!"
These sites include a proliferation of articles that show you exactly how to make sure you know you're ovulating (i.e. charting your cervical mucus).Sometimes, the articles are in the form of myths and they stress the importance of Doing Things Right if you want to get pregnant. Like this: "Myth #1: You can just have sex anytime, and eventually you'll have a child." Apparently, this is not true, even though they told us this as teenagers. Apparently, you must catch the half day or so that the egg is actually on its way through the fallopian tube or you may have to wait another month. Oh my God! A whole month! And how can I survive not knowing if I ovulate on day 14 (it's another myth, apparently, that women do this) or day 4?
And, there are lists of dos and don'ts. I was unaware, for example, that saliva kills sperm so that means oral sex is out. I can't drink caffeine, my husband can't use the hot tub, and he's got to be all hanging out because he has to wear boxers so his little sperm have room to breathe. And he can't ride a bike. Horrors! I am doing everything wrong!
Every time I read one of these articles I think exactly what they want me to think: I start to worry that I'll never get pregnant if I don't lose 5 pounds, if I don't start taking folic acid NOW, if I don't buy a rectal thermometer and stick it in my butt every morning so I'll know when my temperature goes up (and therefore, my ovulation begins), if I don't keep a record of when I have sex and when I start various periods of my "cycle," as they vaguely refer to it, and if I don't orgasm every time because apparently orgasms help the sperm get to the egg. Aargh! It's hard to believe so many women have succeeded at this, considering how complicated and difficult the doctors/experts make it seem. And, by the way, the experts beat us over the head with this information: older women are less fertile, so you've got to work hard at this.
So here's the thing. I'm sick of all these articles telling me I'm evil because I want to enjoy sex and because I don't feel like creating a new Excel document to figure out the best time for having it. What's wrong with just going with the flow? I don't feel like taking samples to see if my mucus is "transparent and of an egg-white consistency" versus whatever it normally is, then scheduling my sex life around that fact.
Yes, I think it's all a horrible conspiracy. You read these articles and it's like if you're not doing all this stuff, you will never have a child, period. And not only that, you don't deserve one because clearly you don't have a pink and blue folder in your file cabinet that says, "Preconception Charts and Cervical Mucus Cycle Information."
I don't plan to visit these sites any more--but check with me again in eight months, if I haven't conceived yet. Perhaps then I'll be buying boxers for my husband and locking the door to the bathroom with the jacuzzi tub.
Now that my husband and I are trying to have a baby, I find myself frequenting Web sites that discuss the best ways to get pregnant. And I have decided, after reading the detailed information at these sites, that there's a conspiracy going on.
This insidious conspiracy is designed to take all the fun out of life and out of sex for the duration of your pre-conception period. By charting every minute of your period, your temperature, your discharges, you turn yourself into some crazy obsessed mom wanna-be, yelling (only at the appropriate time of the month, of course), "Okay, I'm ovulating, we have to have sex now!"
These sites include a proliferation of articles that show you exactly how to make sure you know you're ovulating (i.e. charting your cervical mucus).Sometimes, the articles are in the form of myths and they stress the importance of Doing Things Right if you want to get pregnant. Like this: "Myth #1: You can just have sex anytime, and eventually you'll have a child." Apparently, this is not true, even though they told us this as teenagers. Apparently, you must catch the half day or so that the egg is actually on its way through the fallopian tube or you may have to wait another month. Oh my God! A whole month! And how can I survive not knowing if I ovulate on day 14 (it's another myth, apparently, that women do this) or day 4?
And, there are lists of dos and don'ts. I was unaware, for example, that saliva kills sperm so that means oral sex is out. I can't drink caffeine, my husband can't use the hot tub, and he's got to be all hanging out because he has to wear boxers so his little sperm have room to breathe. And he can't ride a bike. Horrors! I am doing everything wrong!
Every time I read one of these articles I think exactly what they want me to think: I start to worry that I'll never get pregnant if I don't lose 5 pounds, if I don't start taking folic acid NOW, if I don't buy a rectal thermometer and stick it in my butt every morning so I'll know when my temperature goes up (and therefore, my ovulation begins), if I don't keep a record of when I have sex and when I start various periods of my "cycle," as they vaguely refer to it, and if I don't orgasm every time because apparently orgasms help the sperm get to the egg. Aargh! It's hard to believe so many women have succeeded at this, considering how complicated and difficult the doctors/experts make it seem. And, by the way, the experts beat us over the head with this information: older women are less fertile, so you've got to work hard at this.
So here's the thing. I'm sick of all these articles telling me I'm evil because I want to enjoy sex and because I don't feel like creating a new Excel document to figure out the best time for having it. What's wrong with just going with the flow? I don't feel like taking samples to see if my mucus is "transparent and of an egg-white consistency" versus whatever it normally is, then scheduling my sex life around that fact.
Yes, I think it's all a horrible conspiracy. You read these articles and it's like if you're not doing all this stuff, you will never have a child, period. And not only that, you don't deserve one because clearly you don't have a pink and blue folder in your file cabinet that says, "Preconception Charts and Cervical Mucus Cycle Information."
I don't plan to visit these sites any more--but check with me again in eight months, if I haven't conceived yet. Perhaps then I'll be buying boxers for my husband and locking the door to the bathroom with the jacuzzi tub.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Top Five Things That Are Currently Making Me Angry and Sad
1. Prisoner abuse in Abu Ghraib. I have always believed that, though there might be some individuals who are sadistic and cruel among the troops overseas, we were invested in Iraq in a way that would preclude any military-approved abuse of detainees. You know, like let's show them how great America is by treating them well, by showing them how the ideals of our country really work. I figured no one would be stupid enough to allow abuse, since our troops are still over there and they're already facing violence every day--why make it worse? Boy was I wrong.
2. My cat, Beasley. For some reason this cat has decided that the bottom of the stairs is the appropriate place to go to the bathroom. He's been doing this since he was a kitten, though when he was little he used to poop everywhere too. So I suppose this is an improvement. But now we have to put him in a 4-foot-high crate whenever we leave the house, and I wish we didn't have to do that.
3. George W. Bush and his administration. What a joke! Can't this guy do anything right? Everything he's done has mired us more and more in a war we can't win. And whatever happened to those terrorists? I haven't heard anything about them in ages. And let's face it, his callous disregard of the human rights of the detainees at Guantamano Bay is part of the reason that the military police thought they could get away with abuse of prisoners in Iraq. His callous disregard of individuals versus corporations has turned this country into a haven for profiteers and just about no one else. I could go on, but I only have so much time.
4. Organized religion. Hey, I say live and let live. If you believe in a God that thinks 1/10th of all the people in the world are horrible sinners just because they're gay, fine then. Just don't come to me asking for a donation. If I believed in God, he'd be a kind god, advocating love and peace and color-blindness and leaving the altar boys alone. So doesn't that mean your God is more a reflection of your bigoted beliefs than what God really wants? He works in mysterious ways, remember. Who knows what he's really after? Maybe you're an agent of the devil and don't even know it. I know Rush Limbaugh is. Also, I hate it when people try to convert me. It's not going to work, people.
5. Hummers. There's this one big yellow Hummer in my condo building's parking lot, and it's a friggin' eyesore. Plus, the guy who owns it parks it in two spots at once so that he can actually get out the side doors--otherwise, we could pin him in (now that's a good idea). I want to put a sticker on it saying "Penis Extension," but unfortunately I'm a law-abiding citizen and can't bring myself to deface another's property. I take solace in the fact that right now he's paying over $100 every time he fills his tank up. And the gas prices are just getting worse. How much do you want to bet, by the way, that the gas prices will drop just in time for the November elections?
1. Prisoner abuse in Abu Ghraib. I have always believed that, though there might be some individuals who are sadistic and cruel among the troops overseas, we were invested in Iraq in a way that would preclude any military-approved abuse of detainees. You know, like let's show them how great America is by treating them well, by showing them how the ideals of our country really work. I figured no one would be stupid enough to allow abuse, since our troops are still over there and they're already facing violence every day--why make it worse? Boy was I wrong.
2. My cat, Beasley. For some reason this cat has decided that the bottom of the stairs is the appropriate place to go to the bathroom. He's been doing this since he was a kitten, though when he was little he used to poop everywhere too. So I suppose this is an improvement. But now we have to put him in a 4-foot-high crate whenever we leave the house, and I wish we didn't have to do that.
3. George W. Bush and his administration. What a joke! Can't this guy do anything right? Everything he's done has mired us more and more in a war we can't win. And whatever happened to those terrorists? I haven't heard anything about them in ages. And let's face it, his callous disregard of the human rights of the detainees at Guantamano Bay is part of the reason that the military police thought they could get away with abuse of prisoners in Iraq. His callous disregard of individuals versus corporations has turned this country into a haven for profiteers and just about no one else. I could go on, but I only have so much time.
4. Organized religion. Hey, I say live and let live. If you believe in a God that thinks 1/10th of all the people in the world are horrible sinners just because they're gay, fine then. Just don't come to me asking for a donation. If I believed in God, he'd be a kind god, advocating love and peace and color-blindness and leaving the altar boys alone. So doesn't that mean your God is more a reflection of your bigoted beliefs than what God really wants? He works in mysterious ways, remember. Who knows what he's really after? Maybe you're an agent of the devil and don't even know it. I know Rush Limbaugh is. Also, I hate it when people try to convert me. It's not going to work, people.
5. Hummers. There's this one big yellow Hummer in my condo building's parking lot, and it's a friggin' eyesore. Plus, the guy who owns it parks it in two spots at once so that he can actually get out the side doors--otherwise, we could pin him in (now that's a good idea). I want to put a sticker on it saying "Penis Extension," but unfortunately I'm a law-abiding citizen and can't bring myself to deface another's property. I take solace in the fact that right now he's paying over $100 every time he fills his tank up. And the gas prices are just getting worse. How much do you want to bet, by the way, that the gas prices will drop just in time for the November elections?
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
My Coachella Experience: A Report on Day 2
It's nearly impossible to see all the bands you want to see at an event like Coachella. For one thing, they are often scheduled opposite each other, and there's no way to be in two places at once. But to make up for that, there's great people-watching. After all, there were something like 50,000 people there per day. Some of them are stupid, like the girl walking around during the Flaming Lips show who complained, "Ever heard of deodorant, people?" To which our response was, "If you'd been here for more than 10 minutes you'd be as rank as the rest of us!" Some of them are trying very hard to be uber-cool, like the girls wearing lace pantyhose and carrying Emily purses. Some are freakydancers, which is always amusing. Of course there's lots of skin to see too, bared by revealing bikini tops (surprisingly, most of the guys kept their shirts on--probably because they wanted us all to see what was written on them). On Day 1 we searched for our favorite t-shirts--the consensus was that the best one was "If you ignore this T-shirt, the terrorists have already won." On Day 2, we gave the award for best goth getup to a guy in black leather pants, studs, a black shirt and a hairstyle that looks like he got it by sticking his finger in a socket. Rock on! On to Day 2...
Sunday, May 2
We slept in a bit today, and went out for lunch. We didn't care to see any of the bands before 3 p.m. anyway, and since they were expecting record highs out in the desert, we decided to beat the heat by going late. We went even later than planned, because it was so hot out we thought maybe another hour would be better spent inside the air-conditioned hotel. Unfortunately this means we missed a couple of bands we wanted to see, like Elefant and the Thrills.
This time we weren't going to do any walking, so we braved the long line of cars. I believe it went even slower than yesterday, but didn't start as early as it had the previous day. Luckily for us, just as we approached Lot 1 some enterprising folks took down the barrier and other enterprising folks were moving the cones so that some of the bare empty space could be used for parking (they had left a rather large grassy corridor in the lot). The line into Coachella was shorter too, so it didn't take long to get inside. Still, it took several hours and we arrived to late to see The Thrills, which is what we were aiming for.
Instead, we stayed at the Mojave tent to hear the Cooper Temple Clause, which Stuart described this way: "Oh no! Your Oasis has fallen into my Cult!" and Becca replied: "No, your Cult has fallen into my Oasis!" The lead singer had a definite Liam Gallagher thing going. Even I noticed it, and I know nothing about music.
We caught bits of other bands, like Belle & Sebastian. The main thing I like about Belle & Sebastian is their name. I'm not a big fan, and their show seemed fine if you like that sort of thing. Another band whose name I don't remember did a lot of instrumental stuff and put us to sleep. Mainly our focus, after visiting the Virgin Megastore tent and buying a few t-shirts, was getting a good seat for the Flaming Lips show. We pushed our way into the crowd, but were still pretty far back when the show started.
The Flaming Lips tends to upstage whatever band follows them. When we saw them on New Year's, they completely blew the White Stripes out of the water. Becca says that she saw them open for Cake, but Cake was wise enough to let the Flaming Lips go last, knowing they couldn't possibly compete for sheer spectacle. I thought maybe the Cure would be big enough and good enough to escape that tragedy, but I have since concluded that the only band that could actually succeed would be the Beatles, complete with a resurrected John Lennon and George Harrison playing a one-night only gig.
In form, the Flaming Lips began their set by putting lead singer Wayne into a big plastic bubble and sending him over the crowd. Of course the balloons were there, the costumes were there, the props were all in evidence. The problem is that Wayne talks too much, and the bubble thing took too much time, and the Lips ended up playing only four songs. Four songs! It's just wrong. Everyone who knew the words (and let's face it, at a place like Coachella this isn't going to be the majority of the audience) sang along to "Yoshimi." That was great fun. I wish they hadn't ended the set on happy birthday, though. I understand that one of the perks of being in a band is that you get to ask huge crowds to say happy birthday to your friends. But still...
I was annoyed with the Cure from the outset because I illogically blamed them for the Lips having to get off so soon. Then, when they came on 15 minutes late I was madder because Stuart wanted to go see Ash and I had been hoping to see a little more of the Cure before we left the main stage area. As it happened, we ended up watching one whole Cure song and walking away during the second. I viewed the Cure from a distance before heading once more into the Mojave tent for the Ash set, but that was all. Ash was fun. Not too many people. Stuart says he didn't enjoy the set much because they seemed to play mostly new songs, but I know so few Ash songs anyway it was all good to me.
I understand that the Cure played past its time, and they were certainly still going strong as we walked away from Coachella close to midnight. We had no major mishaps that day, and by the time we arrived (after 5 p.m., I believe) the heat was only dangerous for a few hours. But we did have planes to catch the next morning, so we called it a night. And that was the end of our Coachella experience.
It's nearly impossible to see all the bands you want to see at an event like Coachella. For one thing, they are often scheduled opposite each other, and there's no way to be in two places at once. But to make up for that, there's great people-watching. After all, there were something like 50,000 people there per day. Some of them are stupid, like the girl walking around during the Flaming Lips show who complained, "Ever heard of deodorant, people?" To which our response was, "If you'd been here for more than 10 minutes you'd be as rank as the rest of us!" Some of them are trying very hard to be uber-cool, like the girls wearing lace pantyhose and carrying Emily purses. Some are freakydancers, which is always amusing. Of course there's lots of skin to see too, bared by revealing bikini tops (surprisingly, most of the guys kept their shirts on--probably because they wanted us all to see what was written on them). On Day 1 we searched for our favorite t-shirts--the consensus was that the best one was "If you ignore this T-shirt, the terrorists have already won." On Day 2, we gave the award for best goth getup to a guy in black leather pants, studs, a black shirt and a hairstyle that looks like he got it by sticking his finger in a socket. Rock on! On to Day 2...
Sunday, May 2
We slept in a bit today, and went out for lunch. We didn't care to see any of the bands before 3 p.m. anyway, and since they were expecting record highs out in the desert, we decided to beat the heat by going late. We went even later than planned, because it was so hot out we thought maybe another hour would be better spent inside the air-conditioned hotel. Unfortunately this means we missed a couple of bands we wanted to see, like Elefant and the Thrills.
This time we weren't going to do any walking, so we braved the long line of cars. I believe it went even slower than yesterday, but didn't start as early as it had the previous day. Luckily for us, just as we approached Lot 1 some enterprising folks took down the barrier and other enterprising folks were moving the cones so that some of the bare empty space could be used for parking (they had left a rather large grassy corridor in the lot). The line into Coachella was shorter too, so it didn't take long to get inside. Still, it took several hours and we arrived to late to see The Thrills, which is what we were aiming for.
Instead, we stayed at the Mojave tent to hear the Cooper Temple Clause, which Stuart described this way: "Oh no! Your Oasis has fallen into my Cult!" and Becca replied: "No, your Cult has fallen into my Oasis!" The lead singer had a definite Liam Gallagher thing going. Even I noticed it, and I know nothing about music.
We caught bits of other bands, like Belle & Sebastian. The main thing I like about Belle & Sebastian is their name. I'm not a big fan, and their show seemed fine if you like that sort of thing. Another band whose name I don't remember did a lot of instrumental stuff and put us to sleep. Mainly our focus, after visiting the Virgin Megastore tent and buying a few t-shirts, was getting a good seat for the Flaming Lips show. We pushed our way into the crowd, but were still pretty far back when the show started.
The Flaming Lips tends to upstage whatever band follows them. When we saw them on New Year's, they completely blew the White Stripes out of the water. Becca says that she saw them open for Cake, but Cake was wise enough to let the Flaming Lips go last, knowing they couldn't possibly compete for sheer spectacle. I thought maybe the Cure would be big enough and good enough to escape that tragedy, but I have since concluded that the only band that could actually succeed would be the Beatles, complete with a resurrected John Lennon and George Harrison playing a one-night only gig.
In form, the Flaming Lips began their set by putting lead singer Wayne into a big plastic bubble and sending him over the crowd. Of course the balloons were there, the costumes were there, the props were all in evidence. The problem is that Wayne talks too much, and the bubble thing took too much time, and the Lips ended up playing only four songs. Four songs! It's just wrong. Everyone who knew the words (and let's face it, at a place like Coachella this isn't going to be the majority of the audience) sang along to "Yoshimi." That was great fun. I wish they hadn't ended the set on happy birthday, though. I understand that one of the perks of being in a band is that you get to ask huge crowds to say happy birthday to your friends. But still...
I was annoyed with the Cure from the outset because I illogically blamed them for the Lips having to get off so soon. Then, when they came on 15 minutes late I was madder because Stuart wanted to go see Ash and I had been hoping to see a little more of the Cure before we left the main stage area. As it happened, we ended up watching one whole Cure song and walking away during the second. I viewed the Cure from a distance before heading once more into the Mojave tent for the Ash set, but that was all. Ash was fun. Not too many people. Stuart says he didn't enjoy the set much because they seemed to play mostly new songs, but I know so few Ash songs anyway it was all good to me.
I understand that the Cure played past its time, and they were certainly still going strong as we walked away from Coachella close to midnight. We had no major mishaps that day, and by the time we arrived (after 5 p.m., I believe) the heat was only dangerous for a few hours. But we did have planes to catch the next morning, so we called it a night. And that was the end of our Coachella experience.
My Coachella Experience: A Report on Day 1
What's the best way to describe Coachella 2004, the music festival my husband, my best friend Rebecca and I just attended in California? Hot. Damn hot. But the bands rocked, we got to see the Pixies, we got to hang out with 100,000 other rock'n'roll fans, and we got heat stroke. What a weekend!
According to the newspaper reports, going to Coachella has pushed our coolness quotient way up. In our 30s (I turn 32 in just a week), we're officially hipsters. But of course, the published accounts of Coachella have very little to do with what our actual experience turned out to be. So here's a glimpse into how our two days at Coachella went...
Saturday, May 1
We left our hotel in Palm Springs at around 9 a.m., hoping that we'd be at Coachella when the doors opened at 11 a.m. On the way we grabbed a Jamba Juice, some gas (the lines around Coachella are rumored to be pretty monstrous) and went to the bathroom at the gas station. Gas here is around $2.30 per gallon. Fortunately, we didn't have to get on I-10 because Hwy 111 from Palm Springs takes us there easily. We did take a wrong turn and ended up at some desolate checkpoint for a mountain park or something. It took us maybe 45 minutes to get to Monroe street, which leads to the field where the even was being held.
My husband Stuart has a very low tolerance for waiting and for lines. So, about a mile or two from the entrance to Coachella, we decided to park in a residential neighborhood and walk the rest of the way. I say "we," but actually I mean "he." I only point this out because it was this walk that turned out to be our undoing. I don't think we actually traveled faster than the long car line winding its way to Coachella; but I'm not sure that we were slower, either--and we did get some free bottles of water along the way. The walk was fine--dusty, but the palm trees were pretty and there are beautiful mountains in the background. Eventually we could see the grand white tents of Coachella, and the parking lot, and more and more people headed our way.
Then there was the line that led into the field. We saw a van with lots of Beastie Boys posters and stickers parked along the barrier, and a guy sitting near it who was obviously on drugs. In fact, Becca thought she saw him shoot up (the Coachella people must have neglected to notice his odd behavior, since they let him in--we saw him later in the day). The line was already cluttered with discarded wine bottles, water bottles and other items people didn't want to return to their car. I'm not sure how long we stood around waiting for our tickets to be taken, but it seemed a while. They did a cursory check of the backpack Stuart was carrying, and let us in. We'd hoped to catch the film festival, but couldn't figure out why the shorts we wanted to see started at 10 a.m. when the gates supposedly opened at 11 a.m.
First thing we did upon entering: go to the restroom, and buy some bottles of water. Unfortunately only one bottle was still cold. I should probably mention that I was already getting dizzy and headachy and delirious by the time we got into the line. We visited the beer tent to get me some shade, but didn't drink. I bought a parasol to keep the sun off my head, and stayed pretty sick all through the first band we saw, The Sounds. They were great and the sound was good. They were on the outdoor stage. The only problem is that I saw them a few months ago, and it was the same show. The Sounds didn't have anything new to add to the mix. Close to the end of their set I moved out of the crowd because I wasn't feeling well, and we had retreated to the shade by the close of their next-to-last song (they always close with this song that spells out their name, so that's how we knew it was the end).
By the time we saw Stellastarr* in the Mojave tent later in the afternoon, I was better. But my friend Becca was starting to show signs of heat exhaustion. She chose to sit on a towel near the entrance of the tent while Stuart and I hung out near the front. It was hot, it was stuffy, it was worse than outside and I feared that I would fade again. Lots of people were crowding us. But the show was so great that it didn't matter. I just saw Stellastarr* in Chicago a few weeks ago, but as a fresh new voice in the music world their show was better than before. They're up-and-coming, for sure. And the sound was good, and the woman in the band sang more than she had in Chicago. My only beef was that they kept turning on the hot lights at the front of the stage for brief periods, and the last thing we needed was more heat. I had a thermometer attached to my backpack--we were pushing 98 degrees in there. And it was more humid than outside because of all the people.
After Stellastarr* we stayed in the Mojave tent to see Junior Senior. Actually, the Mojave tent was our home base for the weekend. Stuart jokes that now all the music that we like will now be called "Mojave music." But since we were back at the towel with Becca, I couldn't see much of Junior Senior. Someone from the B-52s came onstage to play with them. I liked them a lot. They were goofy and dancey. We had planned to stay for the Black Keys, but Becca needed a break.
In the shade of a tent, Becca got sick. In fact, she threw up everything she had eaten that day (a Jamba Juice and a Gatorade). Unfortunately, she got sick on someone near us, who was splattered with globs of Razzamatazz smoothie--yuck! Poor Becca. We had to take her to First Aid and get her a bag of ice. We silently and unanimously agreed to forego watching any more bands until the Pixies came on later that evening. And we also decided to leave before Radiohead came on.
I know. All the people at Coachella are like, What? Miss Radiohead? Are you loco? What's the point of going to Coachella if you're going to miss Radiohead? I would have liked to see them, but none of the three of us were huge Radiohead nuts. We could miss them, if it meant getting out a bit earlier and keeping Becca from being totally sick. In fact, she continued to visit the restroom and throw up for hours, even until we left.
We stayed in the background for the Pixies, spreading our towel on the ground and sitting down during their set. I couldn't see the actual band, but I could see the screens and that was enough. I was able to walk around and do a little shopping before they came on. And they rocked. They played some of my old favorites and I was so glad that I was there to see them. I don't think Becca and Stuart enjoyed them as much as me--Stuart was never as big a fan, and well, Becca was sick and in and out of the bathroom.
We left right after the Pixies, because after all we had quite a hike back to the car. Luckily, a cab was just then turning into the parking area, and we flagged him down and had him take us back to the car. Becca didn't quite make it all the way, needing to throw up about a block from the street where we'd parked. So we all got out and walked the block to our car, not realizing until later that Becca had left her Cubs hat, with her Super Furry Animals pins, in the cab. I had been too distracted to notice that her hat was still in the cab, and Stuart was sitting in the front seat so he couldn't see it.
But we got home safely, by 11 p.m., and left Becca to bed while going out to a late, quick pasta dinner at a local Palm Springs restaurant. It's safe to say, after that disaster, that we were a little apprehensive about Day 2.
What's the best way to describe Coachella 2004, the music festival my husband, my best friend Rebecca and I just attended in California? Hot. Damn hot. But the bands rocked, we got to see the Pixies, we got to hang out with 100,000 other rock'n'roll fans, and we got heat stroke. What a weekend!
According to the newspaper reports, going to Coachella has pushed our coolness quotient way up. In our 30s (I turn 32 in just a week), we're officially hipsters. But of course, the published accounts of Coachella have very little to do with what our actual experience turned out to be. So here's a glimpse into how our two days at Coachella went...
Saturday, May 1
We left our hotel in Palm Springs at around 9 a.m., hoping that we'd be at Coachella when the doors opened at 11 a.m. On the way we grabbed a Jamba Juice, some gas (the lines around Coachella are rumored to be pretty monstrous) and went to the bathroom at the gas station. Gas here is around $2.30 per gallon. Fortunately, we didn't have to get on I-10 because Hwy 111 from Palm Springs takes us there easily. We did take a wrong turn and ended up at some desolate checkpoint for a mountain park or something. It took us maybe 45 minutes to get to Monroe street, which leads to the field where the even was being held.
My husband Stuart has a very low tolerance for waiting and for lines. So, about a mile or two from the entrance to Coachella, we decided to park in a residential neighborhood and walk the rest of the way. I say "we," but actually I mean "he." I only point this out because it was this walk that turned out to be our undoing. I don't think we actually traveled faster than the long car line winding its way to Coachella; but I'm not sure that we were slower, either--and we did get some free bottles of water along the way. The walk was fine--dusty, but the palm trees were pretty and there are beautiful mountains in the background. Eventually we could see the grand white tents of Coachella, and the parking lot, and more and more people headed our way.
Then there was the line that led into the field. We saw a van with lots of Beastie Boys posters and stickers parked along the barrier, and a guy sitting near it who was obviously on drugs. In fact, Becca thought she saw him shoot up (the Coachella people must have neglected to notice his odd behavior, since they let him in--we saw him later in the day). The line was already cluttered with discarded wine bottles, water bottles and other items people didn't want to return to their car. I'm not sure how long we stood around waiting for our tickets to be taken, but it seemed a while. They did a cursory check of the backpack Stuart was carrying, and let us in. We'd hoped to catch the film festival, but couldn't figure out why the shorts we wanted to see started at 10 a.m. when the gates supposedly opened at 11 a.m.
First thing we did upon entering: go to the restroom, and buy some bottles of water. Unfortunately only one bottle was still cold. I should probably mention that I was already getting dizzy and headachy and delirious by the time we got into the line. We visited the beer tent to get me some shade, but didn't drink. I bought a parasol to keep the sun off my head, and stayed pretty sick all through the first band we saw, The Sounds. They were great and the sound was good. They were on the outdoor stage. The only problem is that I saw them a few months ago, and it was the same show. The Sounds didn't have anything new to add to the mix. Close to the end of their set I moved out of the crowd because I wasn't feeling well, and we had retreated to the shade by the close of their next-to-last song (they always close with this song that spells out their name, so that's how we knew it was the end).
By the time we saw Stellastarr* in the Mojave tent later in the afternoon, I was better. But my friend Becca was starting to show signs of heat exhaustion. She chose to sit on a towel near the entrance of the tent while Stuart and I hung out near the front. It was hot, it was stuffy, it was worse than outside and I feared that I would fade again. Lots of people were crowding us. But the show was so great that it didn't matter. I just saw Stellastarr* in Chicago a few weeks ago, but as a fresh new voice in the music world their show was better than before. They're up-and-coming, for sure. And the sound was good, and the woman in the band sang more than she had in Chicago. My only beef was that they kept turning on the hot lights at the front of the stage for brief periods, and the last thing we needed was more heat. I had a thermometer attached to my backpack--we were pushing 98 degrees in there. And it was more humid than outside because of all the people.
After Stellastarr* we stayed in the Mojave tent to see Junior Senior. Actually, the Mojave tent was our home base for the weekend. Stuart jokes that now all the music that we like will now be called "Mojave music." But since we were back at the towel with Becca, I couldn't see much of Junior Senior. Someone from the B-52s came onstage to play with them. I liked them a lot. They were goofy and dancey. We had planned to stay for the Black Keys, but Becca needed a break.
In the shade of a tent, Becca got sick. In fact, she threw up everything she had eaten that day (a Jamba Juice and a Gatorade). Unfortunately, she got sick on someone near us, who was splattered with globs of Razzamatazz smoothie--yuck! Poor Becca. We had to take her to First Aid and get her a bag of ice. We silently and unanimously agreed to forego watching any more bands until the Pixies came on later that evening. And we also decided to leave before Radiohead came on.
I know. All the people at Coachella are like, What? Miss Radiohead? Are you loco? What's the point of going to Coachella if you're going to miss Radiohead? I would have liked to see them, but none of the three of us were huge Radiohead nuts. We could miss them, if it meant getting out a bit earlier and keeping Becca from being totally sick. In fact, she continued to visit the restroom and throw up for hours, even until we left.
We stayed in the background for the Pixies, spreading our towel on the ground and sitting down during their set. I couldn't see the actual band, but I could see the screens and that was enough. I was able to walk around and do a little shopping before they came on. And they rocked. They played some of my old favorites and I was so glad that I was there to see them. I don't think Becca and Stuart enjoyed them as much as me--Stuart was never as big a fan, and well, Becca was sick and in and out of the bathroom.
We left right after the Pixies, because after all we had quite a hike back to the car. Luckily, a cab was just then turning into the parking area, and we flagged him down and had him take us back to the car. Becca didn't quite make it all the way, needing to throw up about a block from the street where we'd parked. So we all got out and walked the block to our car, not realizing until later that Becca had left her Cubs hat, with her Super Furry Animals pins, in the cab. I had been too distracted to notice that her hat was still in the cab, and Stuart was sitting in the front seat so he couldn't see it.
But we got home safely, by 11 p.m., and left Becca to bed while going out to a late, quick pasta dinner at a local Palm Springs restaurant. It's safe to say, after that disaster, that we were a little apprehensive about Day 2.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)