"It was lit."
This is how Nick Lachey describes our flight from New York City to Texas. I've baited him into saying this by asking, "Was it lit?"—but he's correct, nonetheless.
JetBlue has furnished us with an aircraft for the explicit purpose of filming a special South by Southwest edition of his Big Morning Buzz Live show for VH1. For me, it's mostly an excuse to begin the music festival on a debaucherous note. There are myriad alcoholic options, which would do well to explain the line of questioning in our useless interview:
Four Pins: Have you ever been running through the 6 with your woes?
Nick Lachey: I don't know what that means.
Four Pins: Have you ever been in Marquee when it's shut down?
Nick Lachey: I've been in Marquee.
Four Pins: When it's shut down, though?
Nick Lachey: I've shut it down.
It's an appropriately surreal start to a stay in Austin that only gets weirder.
My first destination is the J.W. Marriott on 2nd Street. I'm headed there because I told the Internet that I didn't have a place to stay in Austin and a random guy responded saying that he can get me a hotel room for free. I'm skeptical, but no less than 12 hours after sending my initial tweet, there's a confirmation email in my inbox.
It seems too good to be true and I'm wondering if I'll be robbed or murdered upon arrival. A quick Google search of my shady benefactor confirms that this is, in fact, a distinct possibility.
The details of the events that follow are insignificant. SXSW is a blur of live performances, celebrity run-ins, controlled substances and fan encounters that can give even the most grounded of personalities an inflated sense of self-worth.
I've been down this road before. Not at this festival specifically, but at other gatherings like it, and it's all so much less validating this time around. What are any of us really doing here? What purpose does creating this content serve besides mitigating corporate impressions?
Maybe something you've written makes people laugh, or brings them closer to an experience for which they weren't present to witness themselves, but I generally think that people can survive without an endless stream of hot takes on [insert Soundcloud rapper]'s 27th showcase of the week. Don't get me wrong, from the moment I touch down in Austin, I'm having fun, but there's this lurking suspicion that SXSW is, ultimately, a futile affair.
With that comes this unspoken dark element to the proceedings. No one wants to admit it, but everyone secretly cares more about where the next drink is coming from than the next Migos performance. When you operate within an industry bubble, it lends credence to the value of your profession, but it's become increasingly transparent. Everyone think they're relevant. Everyone thinks they're famous. And, on the Internet, everyone is.
Idle hands are dangerous and the vague aimlessness of SXSW inspires bad decisions. Everyone is just looking for a purpose and that's why people come down to Austin and get their little all-access badges and VIP wristbands, but, in the end, it amounts to nothing.
Then, you're in a room at 4am doing everything your mother told you not to do your entire life. And the youthful indiscretions bit gets old when you're firmly supplanted in your mid-20s. There's this sense that you should have it figured out by now, and there's the minor suggestion that you do because you're getting paid to hang out and party and Instagram the party you're hanging out at. But you don't. And you never will.
One thing I failed to mention about my time on that JetBlue plane is that I tried speaking with Nick Lachey about existential theory. For someone with as directionless, yet successful of a career as his, I assumed he'd be equally confused about the meaning of life. Why are we here? Why are we drunk on this
His answer: "I'm not that deep."
Ernest Baker is a writer living in New York. Follow him on Twitter here.
