I’m late all the time. I have no perception of time. Time is for white people. It doesn’t work with me.”

~ Erykah Badu in in the new issue of Blender magazine

Amen, sister.

Most of y’all have heard of island time before. It’s about a half an hour, hour, two hours, behind what other people would deem “real time.”

Well I’m just here to go on record to say that island time is a beautiful, beautiful thing.

In general, people in foreign are much more punctual than us Caribbean folk and it’s definitely gotten me in trouble in the past.

That’s why I like California.

Nobody rushes here.

The East Coast (yup, even Miami) is all hustle and bustle and go, go, go. Out here in LA, we take it easy. Maybe the days are longer or something, I don’t know.

In its time, in its time. And that is a beautiful thing. Who wants to be a slave to a clock? Is that any way to live?

Doh rush me, nuh!

Much like the feisty Ms. Badu, I have no real concept of time. Actually, what it is is that I perceive time as a fluid entity–sometimes it goes fast, sometimes it goes slow, and at the end of the day you don’t know how it’s gonna roll so just sit back and let it be.

I could start getting ready to go out three hours beforehand and still not have enough time. On the other hand, I’ve gotten ready in as little as 10 minutes on some, albeit rare, occasions.

Dude, what’s the rush?

I’m decidedly anti-rush.

It kills my vibe.

You make me rush and you get mean Dan.

Mean Dan makes you late on purpose because you have disturbed the sanctity of her getting ready process.

And it is a process.

I’m not talking girly-wise with the hair and the make-up and the trying on three million outfits although I do that as well.

The process I’m talking about is about getting into the right mindset, psyching yourself up for what’s to come, drinking tea and deep long, cleansing breaths to calm your aura. It is a beautiful and necessary process and if it makes me two minutes, twenty minutes, or two hours late, so be it.

I guess my problem goes back to planning.

I see two hours and think, oh I can do this, this, and that, and then I’ll still have a half hour to get ready and that will be more than enough time. And then somehow it’s five minutes before we’re supposed to leave and I’m now jumping in the shower.

And I still won’t rush.

You rush me, you won’t really want me around for very long.

Being on time kind of makes me angry.

What is the benefit of being on time?

Everyone knows that getting ready is the most fun part of the going out process. Why deny me that delicious experience and substitute it for getting to a half-empty place where the vibe hasn’t even been set yet and everyone’s waiting around for everyone else to get there and being awkward.

Noooooooooooooo thank you. What a waste.

But that doesn’t mean I’m aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalways late. Sometimes it’s not your shit going on and you have to suck it up and be respectful of others.

In those times, I try really really really hard to be on time. I’ll start my process four hours before so I’m in the right frame of mind to take on whatever it is I have to deal with next.

In those times, the bf will generally stick his head around every 15 minutes or so to remind me that time is actually passing and forward motion is required.

In those times, I don’t like it very much.

Parking lots are far far far away…

When (not if, when) I go back to Coachella next year I will probably (hopefully) do some things differently next year. I wrote them down here so I don’t forget (I heart lists) and for all you other concert newbies living in foreign.

1. Much like Tobago sun, desert sun is a beast all of its own. If you’re an islander like me you might feel like you could handle heat. Well hear what. I’ve never been in a Caribbean location where it ever tops 95 degrees. Something to do with the humidity. In the desert, brace yourself for 100+ and DRY. DRY when I tell you dry. And so you accommodate the beast; he does not accommodate you. Wear the thinnest, loosest piece of cotton (it has to breathe) you own and pleeeeeeeeeeeeenty sunscreen–only SPF 30+ and up will do. Also a bandanna for the dust and a bottle of water at all times. Just dont stop drinking.
2. Early is no good. We got there at three (it started at 2) and it was just too hot. I honestly wondered how I was going to make it until 10:45 for Prince but as soon as the sun started going down around 6:30 I was happy like pappy and skipping around like a lamb.
3. Figure it out beforehand. We had an idea of who we we wanted to see and kind of sort of when but we left a lot of things up in the air. We had to go hunting around for a schedule to figure it out and I think we lost a lot of time trying to figure out who was playing where and when.
4. VIP all the way. Now, I am a lady of comfort. Just because I’m from an island doesn’t mean I went around the place barefoot and climbing up trees to pick mangos. I neeeeeever did that kind of stuff. I really don’t do grass or general public. I was all pumped up about going to Coachella but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a bit skeptical about being in the desert without my creature comforts. Well, if you have a VIP pass you have entry to a special, closed off area with its own food, drinks, bathrooms, and seating and its nice and close to the stage. We had VIP passes and I’m not sure if it would been half as fun without them.
5. Sneakers not sandals. I wore a pretty white cotton sun dress with a bathing suit underneath (much more comfortable and forgiving than underwear) and I contemplated wearing sneakers but they really didn’t go so I wore my gold gladiator sandals. Well hello. Open sandals and sandy, dusty, possibly muddy grounds do not mix. Especially if you put SPF on your toesies right before. Gross. I hope hope hope I can revive my sandals. Not to mention, you’re walking all day. While sandals are comfortable, sneakers tend to be more so. So next year, I’ll make sure to wear an outfit that accommodates sneakers.

Okay so there’s my two cents. Please remind me about these next year, folks. And add your tips in the comments!