We get back from Tool and pass out. JQ and I are in a tent with his battery operated fan going, AC tent, hilarious. The next thing I know, some clown with a thick brogue is singing James Blunt completely off-key and ridiculously loud. This guy is hammered. I sit up and notice he is whaling on a handle of Captain Morgan. People are yelling at him, some are ignoring him. It is easily 6:00 in the morning. I get my daily dose of Coachella Revenge and have to bolt to the sweet port-a-potties. When I come back, some kid is on James Blunt's back and has his elbow around his throat, clearly choking this guy into submission. JQ informs me that this kid just walked up and told our early morning crooner to knock it off. The guy didn't, kept pushing the envelope and our friend, Chuck Norris, just got down in a stance and then starting forcing Blunt into submission. Blunt finally passed out and then Norris, as only Norris could say, goes "this guy'll be up in 8-10 minutes" as he poured out the Captain. While he was choking Blunt out, some girl started flipping out yelling at her boyfriend to stop it. This guy walks up to Norris and goes, "uhhh, like, just don't kill him." It was nowhere near anything like that, but Blunt did piss himself. As soon as he came to (8-10 minutes later) he got up and meandered off with a buddy that had come looking for him. We later bumped into Blunt singing more of the real James Blunt's songs, to the ire of just about everyone in a 50 yard radius. Good times.
We couldn't stop laughing about it the whole way to the airport. We rolled out of Coachella around 7 AM, hit up Denny's and then continued on to Ontario. JQ went north to Vegas. None of us have showered for four days. Things are a little ripe to say the least.
TV On The Radio has left a monster impression on me. It was so unexpected and beautiful. Bloc Party is on my mind as well. What a weekend.
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