True Tales from Behind the Scenes
True Tales from Behind the Scenes
It was this California girl's dream. Hot and sweaty, loud, endless, exciting. Just two words: Woodstock '99. It all started with a bumpy ride in a blue limo to the humid, dusty Griffiss Business and Technology Park in Rome, New York. From there, five friends and I hopped into the back of a pickup truck and rode past people painting, building and placing the finishing touches on the venue just days before the show. We finally reached our destination, our home for the duration: Hush House and the surrounding fenced off grounds. The Hush is an old soundproof hangar (a throwback from the Airforce base days) about a mile from the main stage.
We checked in with the staff and signed up for duty. Jim, Jeni and Carmene were to man campgrounds, providing help and information. Dave was a runner, delivering food, supplies and random help to those who needed it in the field. Mike was a gopher, filling in where needed, and often getting stuck with trash detail, poor guy. And I, the most fortunate of the gang, was placed in camping headquarters. In the very rare air-conditioned comfort of a large trailer, I answered phones, typed up lists and relayed various information. For the most part, I just sat and listened to the endless insane banter on the two-way radios held by various campground leaders.
There's a fire in Blue. Someone tore the nozzles off the showers in Red. Handicapped is trapped in Yellow behind inconsiderate campers and cannot get to bathrooms. Over 1000 feet of fence have been torn down in Silver. There's an asthma attack in progress in Green. Orange still has no water to drink. They're climbing up the tower. A mob of morons is throwing beer cans at people and just hit someone. Security is just standing around. People are camping in the beer gardens and Budweiser won't reopen it until all the campers are forced out. There's no room left to camp. Are we ever getting breakfast? Someone is climbing up poles and taking down the flags marking each region. There are drunks looting the convenience store. We've got a woman with a bee sting who is allergic. The medical tent still isn't set up off of Psycho Path and two people have twisted their ankles. Vendors have nowhere to camp. There have been four casualties thus far.
There's something about the mixture of fear, adrenaline, lack of sleep, a time zone change, 400,000 people, sneaking backstage, surviving the elements, great bands, physical exhaustion and nearly 24-hour entertainment that can never be explained nor repeated.
Yes, it was scary, dangerous, and just down-right crazy. Why then, was it the most fun I've ever had? It was an experience. It was THE experience. Maybe it was not knowing what would happen next. It was wondering if I'd be crushed, if I'd ever get a shower, if I could possibly walk any further, if I'd see someone keel over right in front of me, if I'd make it to headquarters without my pass being ripped off my neck by a grimy drug-crazed stranger. It was mud, it was overflowing toilets, nudity and people who were more animal than human.
It was being face-to-face with Zack from Rage Against the Machine. It was snapping a picture of my cousin being kissed by an MTV VJ. It was Orange Guy, Sock Man, the Mud Couple and other random freaks that seemed to pop up everywhere I looked. It was seeing the pure joy on the faces of friends who had only previously dreamed of being this close to their favorite musicians. It was getting ice cold water from Planet Woodstock backstage. It was watching lifeless bodies rushed passed me on stretchers by amazing, dedicated medical staff. It was life. It was real. It was Woodstock '99.
My own personal account of Woodstock '99, as a volunteer...
by MsScarlet
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