1. Lolla

Every summer, lollapalooza is the event of the year for affluent Chicago-area teenagers. I’ve decided that this year was my last year going to the festival. Don’t get me wrong, I had a fantastic three days camping out to get front and center for Kendrick Lamar and singing along at full-volume to my 8^th grade anthem by the Killers, but I think at 19, my last year as an official teenager, this was the end of an era.

As the years went by, Lollapalooza always offered an opportunity for firsts. Living in the North Shore suburbs of Chicago, summer excitement was scarce. Without major news stories or crime, the idyllic neighborhoods became the bane of my friends’ and peers' existences, and so Lollapalooza became a part of the “North Shore Culture”, a place where rich kids could feel badass without consequences. At Lollapalooza, I bought my first beer (illegally, of course), smoked my first joint, and kissed my first stranger all within the confines of the fenced-in Grant Park. Lollapalooza is where I learned that sometimes teamwork means getting on a friend’s shoulders so you can finally see the stage. I learned that getting lost in the crowd is not always a bad thing. And I learned to take risks, just not too many of them. I learned all these things within a square-mile radius, never more than 100 feet from a fully stocked medical tent and armed Chicago Police officers. For me, and many like me, Lollapalooza is a safe haven where we can try being older without the commitment. It’s a time capsule that I stepped out of every year when I got to Oglivie on the last day.

This year was full of North Shore teenagers learning about themselves, but none of them were me. I saw a boy vomit all over his new Lollapalooza shirt, a girl whose tube top was a little too loose, and a guy who’s fake ID just wasn’t convincing enough for the bartender. Rookie mistake I found myself thinking when I saw all these people, struggling to become cooler, older. At that point, I knew that Lollapalooza had already given me everything it had to offer. I am no longer one of them.

Although this chapter of my life is probably done, thinking about Lollapalooza makes me appreciate growing up in the North Shore area so much more. Sure, the North Shore is known for its overbearing parents, a place where Jr. must grow up to be a doctor or a CEO, but for all the expectations it unloads on teenagers, the North Shore is surprisingly accepting of a music festival where drugs and underage drinking run rampant. Maybe it’s because our parents all went to Woodstock when they were young, maybe it’s because adults know that if they push too hard kids will rebel. Whatever it is, the community accepts a perfect balance of responsibility and newfound freedom when it comes to Lollapalooza. Because every hipster I hear complain about living in the “wealth and stuffiness” of the North Shore also has 12 Facebook pictures a year posted at Lollapalooza, their hotel rooms, wristbands, and Raybans paid for by daddy’s credit card, as they enjoy all the beautiful life lessons that North Shore culture has to offer. So, while I will probably never go back, I hope one day my kids will.