Shade structures go up in the aisles, somebody's speaker is already going a few rows over, and a stranger comes past handing out popsicles because they overbought. None of the actual music has started yet.
This is the day before. The main gates stay shut, which is exactly why the people who chose camping treat it as the best part — the whole social infrastructure of the weekend assembles itself out here in the hours before anything official happens. Elaborate camps, communal cooking, spontaneous sets in the aisles. Out in the valley the parties are launching, the hotels are filling, and the artists are making final adjustments to installations nobody will see until tomorrow.
Camping passes for the first weekend include the early arrival at the polo club in Indio, and desert lodging goes fast once badges are confirmed.
The weekend belongs to everybody. This day belongs to whoever got there first.