This is how I tricked my parents into taking me to Woodstock:
Ok it was summer 1969. I was 14, more sheltered than
I'd have liked to be, and totally fascinated by this "Woodstock" thing I
was hearing about. Imagine my glee when my mother said to me "Your dad and
I are thinking about a family vacation up in the Catskills but we keep hearing
(disgusted face resembling a chicken's rectum!) ROCK festival. YOU know about stuff like that. Is it true?"
Seizing the opportunity (heh heh) I replied innocently "Gee no, I heard that will be in CALIFORNIA, where they ALWAYS have these kind of things." So, upstate we went! Upon arrival, my parents immediately realized I'd told a little white lie (DUH!) but, good sports that they are, they decided to make the best of it.
When the festival started getting underway, I hitched to the site with another girl I'd hooked up with but it was so crowded, we had to turn back. Still, I wouldn't have given up this experience for the world. Everyone was having so much fun. There were no fights, no bad tempers or bad karma and everyone was just living in the moment! I mean, you take a minor, routine traffic jam ariound here (South Florida. Blechhh!) and people are practically opening fire on one another all along I-95.
So that's my story. Uh, I guess you had to be there. Or, to ALMOST be there!