Friday 3pm
French fries taste better in the car. The spuds are still piping hot and crispy, having not yet been ruined by steaming inside the bag. I am already in vacation mode, so the first waffle fry on my tongue tastes of salty deliciousness, not fattening guilt.
We are grabbing a bite before getting on I-17. E, J, and I are heading to Vegas for When We Were Young music festival. L is joining us tomorrow. This is my second year attending. For the other three, it is their third. We converse for the first three hours of the trip, catching up after months of not seeing each other. The long drive eventually saps us of energy though. The second half of the ride is spent listening to music. The volume steadily grows. We are going to Las Vegas for pop punk and emo, and this is our first taste of the weekend.
The playlist repeats, but we do not notice until “Vindicated” by Dashboard Confessional plays for the second time. The darkness of the desert is broken by the distant haze of light. Las Vegas nears. Soon enough, E and J are dropping me off at Park MGM. I am too cheap to stay closer to the festival grounds. I grab a slice of Roman-style pizza and a Peroni from Eataly. The pizza crust is overdone.
I review the lineup for the fourth time on my phone. No perfect solution exists. WWWY is stacked with the biggest artists the genre ever had. Missing some of the bands I want to see is inevitable due to overlap. I go to bed a little salty about the plethora of riches in front of me.
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