For most rock fans, Woodstock ’99 is remembered within the frames of breaking MTV News updates, interrupting episodes of Daria with terrifying images of an apocalyptic hellscape in flames. But for a relative few, Woodstock’s third incarnation will forever live as a series of gnarly, grody, jarring experiences that they can feel as much as see in their memories. I know – I was there. While Woodstock ’99 was a cautionary tale for a lot of rockers, it was three days of total madness for me. And looking back on it, what’s even more troubling than how gross it all got (the greed and lack of foresight of its promoters; the subsequent sexual misconduct, arson, and theft of its frustrated attendees), is that it was also the most fun I’d ever had in my life. I was 17 years old, and five o...
