Waves of drunken people? Check.
Annoying drunk chicks? Check.
Drunk dudes perving on drunk chicks? Check.
People vomiting on top of you? Check.
Food poisoning? Check.
Idiots falling in the sea? Check.
Hoards of hipsters? Check.
Hot Chip, Pulp, and Girl Talk? Check.
NO WHERE TO RUN? Check.
Welcome to S.S. Coachella: the festival I’ll never go.
Aboard the S.S. Coachella fans have their choice of various restaurants and activities rooms in addition to the concerts, and run-ins with the stars will be inevitable. In some cases those encounters will be planned, like a wine tasting with Mr. Murphy.
And on a floating island, of course, the late-night revels can continue without fans worrying about a midnight drive through the desert to their hotel rooms, and the artists (or the promoter) won’t have to think about that perennial festival nuisance, getting shut down by local authorities.
“Some sets will be longer than usual,” Mr. Tollett said. “We don’t have a curfew.”
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