This past weekend was the first of two at the Austin City Limits Music Festival. And since I’m now old hat at being an old guy at music festivals, I decided to go. But this time was a little different—this time, the organizers upgraded me from my lowly “media” status to V.I.P. For those not on the festival circuit, that’s an acronym for Very Important Person. Three words that have never been used to describe me. I’m currently No. 32,511 on the waiting list to join The League dating app, which is the worst dating app—that’s the very definition of a Very Unimportant Person.
I soon found out that those three little letters were a complete game changer. To give some insight to the unimportant, here are just a few of the unbelievable perks reserved for C.E.O.s, tech giants, duchesses, and members of the Lannister family who go to music festivals.
The most obvious benefit: private bathrooms. Outside, in general admission, men micturate en masse in what can only be described as a plastic buffet table of urination—shoulder-to-shoulder and sans sneeze guards. But inside V.I.P. you answer nature’s call high above the ground in elevated toilet trailers, like a king ruling from his throne. And, rather than the hand-sanitizer dispensers out in the wasteland of the V.U.P., you get real soaps. Yes, my friends, plural soaps. Three options—one for each letter in V.I.P., I assume.
But the pleasures weren’t just toilet-related. While the V.U.P.s outside were gradually cooked by the Texas sun, like the slow-smoked brisket in their bellies, we remained sweat-free in the only covered area in Zilker Park. So the commoners could throw shade at us for living in luxury, but we basked in that shade.
Some people will tell you that nothing's free. Those people have never had V.I.P. access. How much would you pay for a taco? One, two hundred dollars? A fair price, to be sure, as tacos are delicious. Try zero. These tacos were legit free! And this wasn’t some Columbia House subscription scheme where you’re tricked into paying for a new taco each week. Actually, now that I think of it, a Taco of the Week club sounds pretty awesome, but let’s stay on track.
Tacos weren’t the only item on offer gratis. That’s right, I’m talking ’bout swag. Branded drink koozies, branded fanny packs, branded luggage tags, and more branded bandannas than Willie Nelson could wear in a lifetime, if he were into brands as much as I am. There were so many of these brandannas that the V.U.P.s may have been at Austin City Limits but the V.I.P.s were front row at Brandannapalooza.
V.I.P. goes deeper than free branded trinkets that you’ll cherish forever and definitely not immediately throw out. By paying many hundreds of dollars to experience this music festival, V.I.P.s had the privilege not to experience it at all. Air-conditioned areas with flat screens showing football games made it feel like you weren’t even at a festival. A tiny furnished house at the HomeAway V.I.P. could transport you from the festival to a world where you were home, and a giant.
At this point, I’d spent two entire days in V.I.P. ignoring the texts and calls from my friends who had graciously put me up in Austin for the weekend. They reminded me there was actual music somewhere in this music festival, and that maybe I should check it out with them. For the sake of journalism, I agreed to venture outside where people don MAKE AMERICA SKATE AGAIN hats and ALL ABOARD THE HOT MESS EXPRESS tank tops.
And so I said:
Goodnight, C.E.O.s.
Goodnight, free tacos.
Goodnight, soaps and shade.
Goodnight, most expensive football-viewing area ever made.
Goodnight, branded swag for which I swoon.
Goodnight, Very Important Person moon.
