Two years ago I blogged about my unlikely love affair with Hotshot the Robot, who roams the grounds of Coachella every year hitting on the ladies.
This year was no different, but I was. I had moved on. It was hard, but Hotshot was a distant memory.
Still, as he approached me on his three wheels in the VIP beer garden Saturday night -- wearing nothing but a sexy silver helmet over his sensitive digital screen of a face, I steadied myself, getting ready for the onslaught of pickup lines he was sure to lob at me.
"You're twice as beautiful now as you were in 2010," he said, a cigarette stuck in his metallic jaw, Lionel Richie's "All Night Long" playing low and smooth from somewhere inside his heartless chest.
I swallowed hard. This wasn't going to be easy.
"Were you here last weekend?" I asked, looking shyly up at him.
"Yes, it was like 40 degrees cooler," he said, puffing hard on his smoke. "But I'm a robot so it doesn't really matter."
Yes, that's right, I remembered. He was a robot and he'd never be mine.
"This is my favorite Coachella because it's twice as long," he continued, raising his cold arms to hug me. "And American Spirits are my favorite cigarettes because they last twice as long."
I turned away, crushed. Twice as hurt.
"Coachella is for lovers!" he shouted after me, his Lionel Richie playing twice as loud.
-- Jessica Gelt
Photo: Hotshot the Robot, one of the many art pieces at Coachella, interacts with music fans at the 2010 Coachella Valley Arts and Music Festival, on the Empire Polo Club grounds in Indio, Calif. Credit: Jay L. Clendenin/Los Angeles Times