Corona Music Festejando

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A running theme for my time in Mexico has been "You can do whatever you want, you're in Mexico."

This weekend I went to Corona Music Fest. We met up with our friend from Britilandia. I drank four beers on the taxi ride to the Estadio Azteca. I bought Bud Light for nostalgic purposes, and a Belgian 9% for enhanced drunkeness purposes.

I had some delicious al Pastor before going into the show. I peed in an alley near the entrance. I was cool, but then this guy we were hanging out with, took a pis, and got stopped by the police. He had to pay the cop $250 pesos, sucks. I think if that happens to me, I will pretend not to speak Spanish. "I don't understand-o."

Estadio Azteca is the biggest stadium I've ever seen. It was home to several world cups, and to at least one Corona Music Fest.

We were handed beers upon entrance, and went down to the field. A Mexican indie-super group, FOBIA, was performing. Everyone told me that they were "GREAT!" They were "ALRIGHT!" Then that catchy American band CLAP YOUR HANDS SAY YEAH! played... it was so crowded, I really didn't care. I ws just looking to score some food, and fast.

Me and the Britanico, walked to the other stages, in search of comida. There were plenty of girls with bangs and converse, and that is sort of my shit. So we tried hitting on indie-rocksters, especially those that had pizza. Our endeavors yielded success, not in "pulling girls" but in "eating their pizza."

Me and the Brit decided it was time to go backstage.

We aren't important by any means... we just thought of that old maxim: "You can do whatever you want, you're in Mexico."

I told him about the time I snuck backstage at Sonar - Buenos Aires. The key is faking that you don't speak Spanish, pretending like you are supposed to be there, and confidence (liquid or otherwise.)

At the BA show, I said that I was trying to get in contact with my band (COLDER). I said that I was representing them, but didn't know where I was supposed to go to get a wrist-band. I told the bouncers in espanglish that I had to talk to the group, or I would lose my job. They let me back... I didn't find food or booze, so I cut out. The bouncers were even worried for me... it was cute.

At the Mexico City show, we decided we'd use the COLDER bit, for nostalgia... I mean COLDER was also playing too, so it made sense. Before going in, the Londonista, got on his telephone and pretended to be talking to somebody important. He walked through without issue, I followed after him. The stopped me, but using fake Spanish, I tried to tell them that I belonged back there... the Briton pretended to look frustrated that they wouldn't let me through. He just waved me in.

The first objective was free booze, which we quickly realized was not going to happen. I asked for the green room, and found tent serving dinner to the artists.

We walked in. The food service manager asked for our wristbands, the ones we didn't have. A producer walked in and asked which band we were with. It seemed like the end of the line.

"COLDER"

The guy walked over to the food service manager, and said to her "get these guys whatever they want."

We chatted up the producer for some time, telling him how great everything was.

The waiter brought us chicken and rice.

"Much-uhs, Gra-see-us"

He was nice, and tried to practice his limited English on us.

After a fulfilling dinner (fulfillment in terms of cost, not taste) we went further back stage. The Brit told some journalists that he worked for New Musical Express, he gave them his e-mail address as a contact.

My roommate would later tell me how close he got to The Mars Volta.

"I was in the pit, like right in front of the stage."
"Oh, yeah that's cool, I mean... I was on the stage."

But who cares about The Mars Volta anyway, we were there for NOFX.

We got to the rainy NOFX stage... and pulled a similar backstage sneak there.. but there wasn't any free food, only a Finnish model who seemed too cool for school.

NOFX played six songs, but they had to stop because the stage was collapsing. They played that song about 'Brews that I really like and a Bad Religion cover, so that was cool... I even moshpitted a bit, it was pure nostalgia. When Fat Mike gotten taken off the stage, the fans started pushing over barriers and stuff. I figured a riot was about to happen. I think the police figured the same thing. But I think it all worked out.

We left the show at 11:30. Not a single taxi stopped for us... we were drenched, and cold, and rideless. We went into a bar, and the owner promised to hail us a cab... only after we bought several rounds of french-fries dunked in a cold cheese sauce. It was like melted cheese, but not hot, how did it melt? Mysterious.

We got back to the British pad in the Condesa, warmed up, and went to sleep.

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