Well, it was crazy fun--until it wasn't. I was OK parking the car miles from the venue (the road was as good as closed, a tsunami of traffic)...the heat...the chaos. My friends and I got split up immediately and I never saw them again. OK, no biggie. Then the drugs (constant) and music. Damn, this is fun! I smoked dope in front of New York State troopers, also saw one or two with daisies in their rifle barrels--that kind of stuff really happened. All was well until the rain started. There was little to no food. No bathrooms. Even at the invincible age of 18, I felt like too much could go wrong. And then something did: all my wisdom teeth (which had been aching a bit) blew up into a real problem, with swollen face and serious pain. I lasted one long night in the rain and mud, then had to call that game. It took ~7 hrs go go the ~35 miles from Woodstock back to my house. If I'm really honest about it, Woodstock is way better as a memory than it was as a reality. Plus I later managed to see Jimi Hendrix (the star of the show for me) a couple times, so it all averaged out. PS: I should note that I saw many many people tripping on acid or mescaline and was offered countless doses of both. But I'd already had several acid trips (one extremely bad) and knew better than to trip under such random, uncontrolled circumstances. Several people I knew who did trip there took a long time coming back (in every sense of the phrase).