Monday, August 18, 1969
I woke up stiff as a board around seven in the morning. I barely remembered Blood, Sweat, and Tears and some other bands performing. I was too miserable to care. As it was, a lot of people had already left, probably because they had to go to work or school.
What I could see in the dawn was utter chaos. Trash strewn fields, bodies sprawled carelessly next to, or on top of, each other. The whole place was dirty.
I rubbed my eyes and yawned. The general exodus of people from the festival was slow and steady. Sha Na Na was introduced and I stood to stretch and decide if I was going to stay for the last act, or start walking. Man, was I sore!
I checked my bedroll. It was still wet and starting to smell. I’d have to ditch it. My blanket had dried overnight, and my T-s
