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About Chicago

So I’m hyped, right? Text this chick—nerves kickin in. “What’s your name, darlin?” I ask, quotin Jesse. She’s like, “Lola, $200, downtown.” Whoa. Meets me near this sketchy motel—neon buzzin, heart racin. She’s legit, tho—smells like cheap perfume, smirks like she knows shit. “Ain’t no saint here,” she says, laughin. I’m crackin up too—damn, she’s cool. Reminds me of Jesse’s crew, all rough edges.

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There are now dozens of wristbands at Coachella in a rainbow of colors, many with an RFID chip that must be scanned before you can enter the festival and/or.

I might be ramblin’ a bit – sorry, got carried away – but that's just how life flows here. I tell ya, in my line of work, you get to see real raw emotions, uncensored, warts and all. And lemme finish by sayin’: "This is the room where it happens." Yessir, Coachella is that room – mysterious, chaotic, and full of surprises that lift your spirits high.

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