About two weeks ago, I made the fun, but somewhat draining 7 hour drive from here to EDC on my own. Although I usually go to festivals with friends, I had committed to the 3-day, 32 combined hour undertaking because I was astounded the first time I went. The first view I had of the festival was incredible in its scale — tens of thousands of people, more than a dozen stages, and intricate design across the entire speedway, and I could see it all from where I stood.
I wanted to arrive early, making the most of what I had committed a chunk of money to the year before and, of course, for front-row parking. Although I was excited, I had this constant gnawing feeling that keep bothering me. I would be by myself, amongst a sea of thousands and my mind would not stop racing about the things that could go wrong. But what really could go wrong? It’s something I’ve done before (albeit not to this extent), and it’s just people. The reason I couldn’t settle my mind is because almost all the problems I realistically could face, came from within.
I often carry many self-fulfilling doubts and expectations. I might tell myself, “I’m stressed because what if this isn’t fun”, and then I will have created a cycle of self-doubt that begets the state of affairs I was concerned about. I’m essentially defeated as soon as I have the worry, as it becomes incessant and truly agonizing.
When I arrived, and even during the days before, my thoughts were like bits of metal, grinding against each other in a cacophony of worries and fears. This further discouraged me because I would tell myself, “If I’m already having these thoughts, then it’s only going to get worse.” However, as I’ve grown accustomed to this personal hell, I fought through as best I could and drove to the speedway.
As luck would have it, things were off to a good start when I found an amazing parking spot despite the odds, and I was able to park quite close. On the other hand, although I had silenced and dispersed many of the thoughts, I had that same gnawing feeling in my stomach and shoulders that I couldn’t quite shake. I was really nervous even though I had nothing to worry about. Sometimes it’s hard to know where irrational fears begin and normal nerves end, but I decided to press on about 30 minutes before the festival opening. Thank god I did.
I passed through ticket scan and bag check, feeling relief that the procedural issues were dealt with, and made my way to that breathtaking view I had seen before. There it was, once again, this time lit by the sun, with a much smaller crowd, as I made it in on the first wave. But I still felt aimless. Despite the relief, I still could not shut down the fear of doing this alone, because of how worried I was about ruining my own time. Not the best spiral to be in at the start of Day 1.
After I arrived in Las Vegas, but before I drove to the festival, I searched for some semblance of shade in the near hundred-degree heat during those few hours between. I wanted to sleep before going in, if I could, so I chose a Jamba Juice about 15 minutes away to commence my slumber. But between the intense heat and gnawing, incessant grinding, I wasn’t having much luck. I tried to waste some time, so before long I found myself scrolling through Instagram, as one unfortunately does. Between the photos and videos leaving me duller than I once was, I came across one that suggested the following: “What if it went right? What if it went better than I could have ever possibly imagined?”
This felt special at the time because my doubts were causing my suffering. My thoughts felt overwhelming, and were crushing my spirit with their heft. Beating myself up about the process, my natural response, made it worse. But, once I saw this video it made me realize: I always ask the inverse, because my mindset is inherently pessimistic. What if I considered it this way instead? There really are so many possibilities and positive permutations of how these next few nights could go. This video alone didn’t fix my mindset, but it provided some light. And after what was to come, I found truth in it.
After pausing to admire that amazing view, I continued down the bleachers and looked around, worried, yes, but amazed that I had made it along with the sheer number of people that made it here with me. I felt both intimidated and excited by all the groups I saw, and I had some hope. I wasn’t stuck in that same feeling. I gathered myself and focused on my needs — filling my hydro pack and attempting to ignore the Las Vegas heat annexing any water molecule left unclaimed. With a small delay, I got my water and moved to the side to repack my bag. Shoving my jacket into my bag, knelt next to a pair of oscillating fans blowing their sweet, misty relief, I looked up.
In between this sea of thousands of people, I somehow saw two friends that I hadn’t seen in so long, walking with their group. I had been early to getting water, but by now the lines had extended by at least a hundred feet, and the crowd had become massive and unwieldy. The chance of me running into them was slim to none at any other moment. Had I been in line, getting water, I wouldn’t have seen them. Had I finished earlier, I would’ve missed them. Filled with relief, and confusion (how was this possible?), I ran up to them, yelling their names. I had found the group that would not only guide me through EDC, but that would adopt and accept me so I didn’t have to be alone in the future. Had I hidden away and let my doubt consume, I would never have made those connections.
I needed to consider what could go right. This was serendipity — there was no real chance of me running into them at any other point. If I had made any other choices, if they had made any other choices, I might have been alone. Maybe that would’ve been perfect too. But it’s the fact that I never considered that beautiful moments can happen, not just terrible ones.