VIP Problems

Hidden behind stages and chain-linked fences lies a space reserved for the very important.

 In these oases of ridiculousness, everything is catered.

 Open bars flow like waterfalls, sponsors share promotional items and everyone can talk freely and openly about designer wardrobes or how much their VIP ticket cost.

 Somehow, this particular WEEKEND reporter acquired one of these coveted VIP passes. It involved a Sony sponsored video camera, a scavenger hunt and some serious sweating. But it’s not what it sounds like.

 I was pitted against my peers in bouts of music trivia, photography, and video competition, all for the glory of WEEKEND and the Indiana Daily Student. And since I totally dominated the events, your brave reporter was invited to the upper echelons of the “Lolla Lounges” for an evening with the stars and their patrons.

 There were feasts, endless drinks and high rise seats, all underneath the tall trees of Grant Park. I was in beautiful Chicago, on Lake Shore Drive, cutting loose in the VIP of one of the greatest music festivals in the world.
To me, it was heaven. But all was not perfect in paradise, for some.

 In the strain of “First World Problems,” “White Girl Problems” and the blog satires of the same nature, I’ll describe some of the issues I overheard, that were aired to no one in particular, blowing through the park like the breezes of the Windy City.
 
“Really? The massage parlor is only in the other lounge?”
 
“OMG — the heat is melting the ice cubes in my Red Bull and vodka so fast! It’s so watery—I should get a new one.”
 
“I can only have four free beers at a time? Then how the hell am I supposed to fill this backpack?”
 
“What do you mean the chauffeur won’t be back for another ten minutes to take me to the other VIP tent?”
 
“Yeah, this catered Lou Malnati’s pizza is pretty good, but it’s nothing like the stuff I get in New York.”
 
“Looking down at everything from this cabana is OK. Being able to see all of the stages kind of anti-climactic.“
 
“Ugh, the air conditioning went out in one of the private restroom trailers. It’s about to get barbaric in there.”
 
“The chaffing dishes on this four-course, buffet-style dinner are so ostentatious. I mean, just look at them.”
 
“What do you mean you ran out of strawberry shortcake bars? Don’t you have any more--maybe around the bottom? Will you please just look again?”
 
“I wish they would fan me harder with that giant leaf.”