The Great Woodstock Story - Part 3

Thanks for the kind words everyone. They meant a lot.

Moving on, read Part 1 and Part 2 to catch up.

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Woodstock was Thursday. The deadline loomed. It was a Monday evening, I had arrived home from work and was sitting in my room, waiting for the right moment to come along. It took a few hours.

The walk to the kitchen was slow and forced. My mother sat in there, as she usually did, going over the paper or cutting coupons. I would have to ask her for her car. I did not want to ask her for her car.

?Uh, mom?? She looks up and I sit down. As usual, I get all flustered and blurt out ?I need your car to take me to Woodstock. I?ll only be gone a few days, from Thursday morning to Sunday evening. I don?t think you have to wor??

?What? Wait, stop son.? She took her reading glasses off. ?You wanna what??

?David flaked on me, and now I don?t have a ride.?

?What do you mean, flaked on you. Weren?t you going to stay with him??

?Yeah, up there, but I?ll find a place or a under a tree or something. Doesn?t matter. The problem is, he was my ride. Now he?s going with some other dude.?

?And have you called this other dude?? She asks me, pseudo-mockingly.

?No, I don?t know him. Apparently they don?t have room for me or they?re meeting some people in Ohio or something.?

She huffed and looked at her paper. ?Jesse,? she said (can?t really tell your mother what not to call you) ?Do you know how long a drive it is up there??

?I don?t know, it?s like 800 miles I think. I will get your oil changed! I?ll rotate your tires.? I would?ve continued with and I?ll mop the floors! I?ll sing you songs! but I figured not to dig myself a hole too deep.

?I just?I just?I don?t know, Jesse.? She pushed her index fingers against the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. ?I?ll?I?ll think about it,? she says finally.

Score. That was it. That was the signal. Growing up, I was looking for the think about it, striving for the think about it. All things were possible as long as it wasn?t ?no.? But this phrase, this particular one, has provided more baseball gloves, nintendo games, and musical equipment than you?ll never know. ?I?ll think about it? meant I officially had a ride to Woodstock.

Of course, I did have to change the oil and rotate the tires and whatever else, but who cares: I was going! I had a way. Wednesday night finally arrived, fully turbocharged from watching MTV explain how this was going to be the greatest event of all time, and forced myself to sleep at 8PM. I was to get up at 3AM and begin the 14 hour journey to Rome, NY.

I woke up at 2:30, anxoius and jittery. It was time.

I jumped out of bed, finding my suitcase just where I left it, and with a quick toss of the clothes I was ready to go. I checked my email one last time, I kissed my mother on the cheek as she slept on the couch, I took a deep breath, her keys?and went out the front door to the warm summer air.

The ride was, of course, slow going but prefaced by loud annoying music. The day before I had made my way to the CD Swap place in town and purchased some albums for the road. The ones I recall: Alanis Morissette?s Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie (which got old so quickly it?s kind of shocking), and Kid Rock?s Devil Without A Cause. Needless to say, Me and Mr. Rock got real comfortable with one another and the good times did indeed roll.

In a cloud of smoke and a few gas station stops, I passed through 4 States: Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania and finally New York.

It was almost 4:30PM when I saw a sign that said ROME NY 21MI. The adrenaline was electric?but I was still kinda beat from the drive.

Nearing the place I could see the cars begin to line up in the right lane. At this point I wasn?t sure what I was supposed to do or where I was supposed to wait. I expected a wait of some sort, making my way to the Air Force Base on which the event was held, and finally I saw a ?WOODSTOCK ? NEXT EXIT? sign. I maneuvered my way in front of some huge vehicle, buckled down, and cranked the stereo as I slowly made my way down the ramp.

It was almost 5:45 when I saw the Air Force welcome sign had been replaced with a plywood painted sign declaring Woodstock ?99.

My adventure had begun.

Update: Read Part 4.

What happened when I arrived? And just how do you keep track of your stuff in the campgrounds? What if you sleep outside and it begins to rain? All this and more?next week.

When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed.
Say something once, why say it again?