I worked at the post office and our supervisor threatened to fire anyone who went to Woodstock and missed work. Five of my co-workers went and I went in to work. My future wife, who was in high school, got permission from her mom and went with her friends. She had the foresight to record her thoughts in a journal:
"Maura invited Janet and I to go to this big hippie festival in Woodstock where all these fantastic bands are playing, and 50,000 kids are going...can you imagine sleeping out on the ground with 50,000 kids. Dynamite!...her father would only let five go in the car to Woodstock...so we laid out this fantastic plan...it is going to be one helluva pisser...Shit-this place is so outrageous! Really...thousands of kids are camped all over the highway...so we found this path and went up in the woods and set up camp...later we started to walk to the festival...and we jumped on the backs of cars and finally got up to the concert...we had to wade through mud...they were giving out free food, soda, beer...the people, God, are so kind it's just unbelievable...I never want to go home...this is the most peaceful three days of my life...I had the warmest feeling inside of me, but I knew as soon as I got back home it would be gone."
But I could never get her to return to Woodstock before she died.
So I missed Woodstock and my fellow workers were not fired. A lesson learned about how corporations operate. But I didn't miss the summer jam in Watkins Glen, NY in 1973. There were 600,000 people at that festival. Traffic, three amazing bands, mud, rain, car keys stolen, and the adventure of my life.