Close your eyes.
Imagine a music festival in paradise—you’re surrounded by beautiful young women who get (at minimum) ten thousand likes on even the most basic Instagram selfie. They’re wearing white bikinis.
Above you, the sun shines down from a cloudless sky; below you, the grass is waving from a gentle breeze. You stroll to the main stage, stopping along the way to buy a sweet island drink from a full-service bar and snack on canapés prepared by Michelin-starred chefs.
You arrive at the main stage, where mumble-rap superstar Lil’ Yachty is phumphering his way through a verse about liking pizza as thousands of fans wave their tanned arms in the air. Bella Hadid is standing next to you and asks if you’d reapply suntan lotion to her neck. Behind you, a plane is flying over the ocean trailing a banner reading “LUXURY FOREVER” while Bella opens up a small bag of pure MDMA and pours some into your drink.
Open your eyes.
Your wallet is missing. You’re surrounded by barely attractive girls with Instagrams set to private. They’re wearing ketchup-stained overalls. People are looting the alcohol and your dinner is this:
You’re at Fyre Festival. Haha, you paid twelve thousand dollars to be here.
If you hadn’t heard of the Fyre Festival before today, that’s because this music festival had yet to devolve into a dystopian hellscape, and was still being marketed to people with more dollars than sense as the bottle service version of Coachella. It was staged on a private island in the Bahamas. Tickets cost between $1,200 and a hundred grand. Instagram models and “influencers” were heavily involved with promotion. And it was co-organized by this man:
Tickets included a private chartered jet (that turned out to be a severely delayed coach flight), premium food (see above sandwich), Blink 182 (they canceled when they realized this was going to be an outdoors post-Katrina Superdome), and luxury accommodations (which turned out to be poorly-assembled tents that had quite literally been used in disaster relief aid previously).
You know the scene in Goodfellas when Joe Pesci walks into the empty room and realizes he’s about to get shot? It’s a safe assumption that’s exactly how everyone who bought a ticket to this thing reacted when they arrived to this:
Witnesses report bars being looted, people being mugged and security being anything but:
As of today, the festival is “indefinitely postponed.” Ja Rule, who co-organized this debacle and is very much at fault, has posted a sorry-not-sorry apology to his Twitter:
But it must be noted that while the festival is a disaster, it still managed to deliver top-tier entertainment. I’m referring to the @-replies to Ja Rule’s nah-pology. Spend some time reading them here.