The Great Woodstock Story - Part 7

In this continuing series I detail my adventures at Woodstock ?99.

Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6 to catch up.

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Friday was a surprisingly mundane day. I watched Live rock out a few of their new songs on the main East stage and I headed back to rest around the time DMX (remember that guy?) and Sheryl Crow performed. I wasn?t exactly falling over myself to see them perform and neither were anyone else from what I could tell.

As I walked around the campground and venue areas I looked for David or really anyone I knew. But it was pointless. The place was just too massive and there were so many people. At one point they even announced that thanks to Woodstock Rome, NY was officially the 3rd largest city in the state, behind Buffalo and New York City.

That evening I got to see Offspring rock the house (they were riding high off their ?Pretty Fly for a White Guy? single, and the star of the video showed up on stage), then rocked out with Korn. Bush, God bless em, simply could not perform up to expectations and almost all of their songs fell flat.

Later I found my way back to Harold and Angela?s tent where we recapped our day. When I saw them again, they had smiles?then concerned looks.

?What?? I asked.

?You?re uh?you feel okay?? Angela asked.

?Sure, I feel fine. What?s wrong??

Harold smiled. ?You don?t have any sunblock, do you??

I grinned and realized what they were talking about. ?No??

?Because, damn dude, your ear is purple.?

They handed me a mirror. This is an object that was very rare and hard to find during Woodstock. Going on two days without a shower and a full day in the 102 degree scorching heat, I had no idea what I would find.

It was?pretty bad. My hair was obviously a mess, but the entire right side of my face?the side that faced the sun while I watched the big acts?was all but charred. It was a deep mauve and my ear got it worst of all. It really did have a purple tint to it. And just like an injury doesn?t start hurting until you notice it, so did this sunburn. Suddenly I knew why it was uncomfortable to smile and painful to scratch my face.

The next morning I tried to buy a hotel-sized bottle of suntan lotion. The charge? $5. Yes, for a bottle no larger than the shampoo you get at Days Inn. But I was forced into the situation; my face was pulsing with pain without some sort of protection. I had next to no cash on me and couldn?t really afford another five dollar expenditure.

So what did I do? I got crafty, of course.

Allow me to take a moment and discuss the availability and drug use at Woodstock. Firstly, I don?t think there was a huge ?drug problem?, mainly stoners and their stoner ways and drunks and their drunk behavior. Secondly, the availability was a little nutty. How nutty? During the Saturday stroll to the venue area there were people with cardboard signs displaying their prices for weed, meth, whatever. Ever heard a guy hawk his herb before? It was a first for me too.

That same morning I saw a bunch of guys asking about acid. They were dying to trip, and I was dying for cash as I said. So my craftiness went into effect. I had a business card in my pocket and found a pen via Angela. Acid, if you didn?t know, is usually sold in small squares on paper or thin cardboard. They lace the acid with strychnine and then draw lines on the paper to seperate doses. Usually 3 or 4 centimeter-wide squares are enough to trip you out for 8+ hours.

While the lines weren?t exactly straight, I hastily put away the pen and stuffed the business card in a plastic baggy just as the guys were walking up. There were three of them, all surfer/stoner/skaters and all shirtless. They looked like hell.

?Dude, you know where I can find any acid?? The blonde surfer guy says. His thin, bleach blonde hair fell in strands across his dirty face. His eyes were bloodshot and eager.

?Yeah man, I got some.?

?Whoa, for real? How much dude??

I gave him a long pause and pulled out the baggy. ?I was thinking just forty. Little low, but it?s been in my pocket for awhile, so it may have lost some of its potentcy.?

He dug in his pockets and told his buddies to do the same. They handed me a pair of Jeffersons and I watched as they all took turns munching on a scribbled-on business card.

As I turned to leave the blonde guy stopped me.

?Yeah?? I said.

?Dude,? he replied slowly, holding on to me as if he needed support, ?I think I?m tripping already.?

?Yeah man,? I said, ?Just wait. It gets better.?

And that?s how I afforded suntan lotion on Saturday.

Update: Read Part 8.

Next week: The most amazing part of all?Saturday?s performances and the incredible drive home.

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs