[Guest blogger August Brown has a snake in his boots.]
weekend’s messy collision of Hollywood hipsterati and the soul-crushing heat of
Coachella, Stagecoach is looking to be infinitely more laidback, if a bit heavier on the
taxidermy. Big initial differences:
1.) Everyone is sitting down. The inclusion of lawn chairs on Stagecoach’s
acceptable-items-list (second-amendmenters do not like being told to leave dangerous
objects at home) mean that most folks have a safe place to park their tuchuses and
bucket-sized margaritas.This will probably change as the like of Kenny Chesney (who we
hear inspires more mayhem than our Rage boys) and Alan Jackson take the Mane Stage
(witty!). But until then, the Polo Grounds feel more like spring break in Panama City than the
art-and-sun-damaged fashion runway of Coachella.
2.) The crowd is, much, much older (think 40s) and as of 2:45 p.m. or so, families
bedecked in matching Stetsons seem to be the target demographic (along with some
priceless kids-in-profane-motorcycle-shirts whose pictures probably aren’t safe for
posting). It’s an eclectic bill today though, with some sexy L.A. alt-country,
tejano-influenced folk and loosey-goosey jam bands still to come, and we’re curious to
see what scruffy stragglers might have made it out for both weekends. Either way, the
crowd is friendly and seems really happy to have a whole weekend of collective
hell-raising ahead of them. Except for this cow in the VIP tent, who has likely seen
better days than this one.




