Four years ago, we had a magical experience at Lollapalooza that we’ll always think of fondly. We called it the gentleman’s Lollapalooza experience. With weekend passes we could come and go as we pleased so we rented a hotel room within walking distance of Grant Park. This allowed us to see the bands we wanted while also providing an escape for indoor restroom facilities and quick refresher naps. It was a splurge of a weekend that we still talk about, especially when Lollapalooza rolls around again every August.
While the weekend was a blast, it took two weeks to recover from it. There were the injuries from the crowd surfers that landed on our heads and the inevitable sunburn and dehydration that all required recovery time. And then there were the colds we both picked up from being amongst the unwashed masses. In was in that time, as we both suffered massive head colds and coughs that we recognized it. We’re too old for that shit.
Flash forward to the present and we’re still enjoying Lollapalooza. We’re just doing it from 250 miles away. This year we packed into our well worn Honda Element, tuned the satellite radio to XMU and charged down dirt roads to the Lolla performances by the bands we had wanted to see. Interpol. Jenny Lewis. Grouplove. They all provided soundtracks while we explored the beautiful rolling hills and back roads of Northeast Iowa. And it was heaven.
Oh sure, the urban kid in me might have had a few forlorn moments thinking about the city. After seventeen years there, I have a particular fondness for Chicago. Whenever something happens there, I feel like I should be a part of it. But there was a moment yesterday, as we rambled down a country lane, surrounded by corn and wheat, and with the speakers blaring an Interpol tune, when we both heaved a sigh of contentment.
Just as we think of Lollapalooza 2010 fondly, I think we’ll also regard this year’s Lolla-from-afar experience with a smile. And who knows? We might be willing to brave the crowds for Lollapalooza 2015. But I think we’re more likely to be right here again.
Images: This American House