Attending the Portola Music Festival , you would think the weekend-long waterfront extravaganza had been a San Francisco ritual for decades, not a mere four years.

My Portola journey began last year after the festival ended, when it seemed like everyone I’d ever met in my life had attended — except me. Clearly, I was out of the loop.

So this year, despite all the weekend’s competing events, I made it a priority to live out my millennial dreams by watching Christina Aguilera shake it onstage as the Saturday sun set behind her.

The City was feeling the groove before the festival officially began. On Thursday night, two days before Pier 80 would be taken over by revelers adorned in neon and fishnets, Ellis Street was closed off and packed with party people catching an early set from Jazz

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