We weren’t alive during Woodstock 99, but we know a lot about it, all of which we have learned against our will. In fact, between the documentary that came out in 2021, and having an uncle who attended staying in our parent’s spare bedroom for an undetermined amount of time, we’re basically experts on the subject.
They say that history is written by the winners, and if our uncle got to write the school textbook version of Woodstock 99, you’d think that everyone had fun; so much fun, that it’s all they talk about over twenty years later. Sure, thousands of people were essentially stuck there for days without guaranteed access to basic human necessities, but it’s ok because Korn played, and their set was apparently awesome on ecstasy.
Having this guy stay at our house has us feeling just as trapped as the people stuck at Woodstock 99, only we have water and don’t have to listen to Buckcherry. While we are tired of hearing about it, a part of us feels bad. It’s kinda dark knowing that a forty-three-year-old man had the best weekend of his life while covered in literal shit over twenty years ago. But then he’ll come out of the bathroom and say something like “careful, it’s like a Woodstock 99 port-o-potty in there,” and we don’t feel bad anymore.
People died at Woodstock 99. We know this because our uncle allegedly saw a guy die there, which he has brought up at the dinner table almost every night he’s been here. There was also a fire at Woodstock 99, which our uncle allegedly ran naked around. Fortunately, there is no known evidence of this.
He also loves to bring up the “epic” journey of getting to the former air force base that held the infamous event. He talks about it like it was some sort of pilgrimage, but he lived in Utica, which is like 20 minutes away, and our grandma brought him. She picked him and his co-worker up from their jobs at the gas station and dropped them off. They got high before she showed up and kept it a secret from her, which we supposed is an “epic” thing to do if you’re an annoying nineteen-year-old.
If you attended Woodstock 99, we’d like to formally apologize to you on the off-chance you ran into him there. Thankfully, that weekend of debauchery will probably never be recreated. We’re confident in this because our uncle recently came back from Sick New World Fest, which he was disappointed to report was tame and well-organized and nothing like his favorite weekend.