I inherited an odd personality trait from my late grandfather, Jack Hindin: I have a terrible habit of expecting the worst from every trip I take, to the point where I build up this giant ball of resistance that crushes any bit of excitement I might have, curse the people who talked me into going, try to cancel, and then of course, by the time I arrive and get settled in and start doing whatever it is that I’m doing, I have the time of my life. The same was true before I flew out to Palm Springs on Friday morning, and, as per usual, it was fun and games all round. Below, the highlights from my first ever Coachella, and, in fact, the first music festival I’ve been to since the Big Day out in 2002.Click to Continue!
There’s a distinct difference between New Zealanders and Americans. (Sadly it’s no longer BMI.) If a New Zealander is good at something, he’ll go as far out of his way as possible to not tell anyone about it. We’re a modest bunch, and quick to cut anyone down who we feel might be getting ahead of themselves. Americans however, love nothing more than extolling their own virtues to anyone who’ll listen. For example: John, a friendly New Zealander, meets Hank, a jovial American. “Gidday mate, I’m John,” says John. “Oh hi John, I’m Hank. I’m a Wall Street lawyer. IClick to Continue!