The line for alcohol at Coachella seems inordinately long. As you wait in line, the sun beats down on your head, sending sweat rolling down your forehead and your back. Sighing, you look longingly at the ice on display, dreaming of gulping down a nice cold beer. "Hey stranger," says a voice, bright and cheery. You turn. By your side is a girl, mischievous golden eyes peeking out from under her pink bangs. She's wearing a crop top that leaves little of her curves to the imagination. "Do you mi...