The last thing Johnny Tripoli remembered was an angel faced flower child handing him a joint. "Here," she said coyly, "try this. It's far out!" Now Johnny has dramatically awakened from a drug induced coma, covered with cow shit and insect bites from laying unnoticed in a Woodstock, NY field for forty years, only to discover a world that had passed him by and to a body he no longer recognizes.
"Look at me," he said. "I was one good looking, hip teenager. Now it seems I'm a way over fifty years old, middle aged fat ass Rip Van Winkle with a bald head."
"To make matters worst," he said, "when I woke up I was lying on my stomach with my ass was sticking up in the air. I could have sworn I heard the strange sounds of a grunting bull too," he said pointing to a suspiciously peaceful Angus bull eyeing him from across the field.
Johnny said he had rode to Woodstock, NY, in a VW with friends to party and listen to the three days of music. But he had barely arrived when, "Some girl gave me a joint laced with I don't know what. I took a hit and that's the last thing I remember. Now I've got to try to walk all the way back to Hoboken, NJ by myself on these cottage cheese legs."
When told of the iconic status that the Woodstock music festival had attained in the four decades since he passed out Johnny smiled and said, "Wow man, I guess I was one of the few that had a ticket, and I missed the whole thing. At least I'll be able to listen to the music on my reel to reel tape player. That'll be far out."