Originally published in Newsweek on 7/16/17

I wasn’t sure if the sweat coursing down my neck was the heat, or my nerves. I fidgeted, reapplying sunscreen to every visible inch of my skin, profiling the guards, my bag barely concealing its contraband.

At the front of the line, a deadpan bouncer in a regulation polo shirt poked through my backpack and motioned me through with an anticlimactic wave. My boyfriend emerged from the adjacent line, also unmolested. We high-fived. Our folding chairs were in.

The drugs and booze you smuggled into the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival this year? Child’s play. Take it from a woman who bought roadside tickets to the inaugural Bonnaroo in Tennessee, waded through the mud pits at Phish’s false farewell fest in Vermont, even pitched a tent on a hillside and danced barefoot with the hippies at West Virginia’s All Good Music Festival. There’s only one thing really worth risking ejection from a music festival for, and it’s not MDMA. It’s a portable seat with back support.

Read the full story in Newsweek.