A GREAT ESCAPE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (11-26-20)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

 
     Two weeks ago I was feeling the weighty pressure of waiting for the election results, a bunch of last-minute news specials going on the air at the television network where I work, and the two-win Giants back in a tight race for the NFC East, meaning I had to start watching football games again. It all added up to a recipe for stress, and a great excuse to get away for the weekend in the 70-degree November warmth. A last minute expedition to upstate New York seemed just the antidote. We booked an unassuming hotel in Saugerties, near Woodstock, and took our little friend Gidget with us.

     Our hotel was about 2,000 feet from the site of Woodstock '94 rock festival, held on the 25th anniversary of the original ground-breaking rock concert. I was there with my sister Diane and about half a million close friends. We had tickets to the event that my sister won in a radio contest. She had the uncanny knack of being the 35th caller after calling 34 other times. Even though we had tickets, in keeping with tradition of free expression we slipped under the fence.

     The hill was alive with the sound of music, and when we got to the top of it and looked down, there must have been 100,000 tents set up. We walked toward the soundstage, and Melissa Etheridge was KILLING a medley of Janis Joplin favorites. Who else could pull it off? Afterwards we walked to the North Stage (or was it the South Stage? I didn't have a compass) to see Crosby, Stills and Nash perform "Woodstock," which of course wasn't written the last time they were there. Some other artists were also reprising their roles from a quarter century ago. Country Joe McDonald was there, and I wanted to give him an "F" since I wasn't there to give him one the first time, just to see what he would do with it. It started raining pretty hard, and all of a sudden there was a sea of humanity moving east southwest from the Northeast Stage. It would have been a good time to learn how to crowd surf if I had brought a board, and soon everybody was covered in mud, slipping, sliding and frolicking. It looked like fun but I wondered what everybody did with their wallet.

     Everything was so clammy, smelly and gross by the end of the day that it was just as well I didn't bring a tent to stay overnight. Personal hygiene would have been at a premium. "Excuse me, Salt N' Pepa, and am I talking to Salt, Pepa, or N'? Since there are three of you. Anyway, is it okay if I unplug one of your amps to use my electric toothbrush?"

     Back in the present it was warm and sunny, with the exception of night, and at the restaurant we could distance ourselves from others outdoors. Those kerosene lamps are a hot item right now, I'll tell you that. I've been socially distancing myself from others for years, or perhaps it was the other way around, so it's no big deal to me. I flip up my mask when the waitress comes around so we can all feel safe. After I give my order for the cheeseburger, including my footnotes about a separate cup of mayonnaise and no pickle within a five-foot radius and how well-done the French fries should be, I ask her if she's making an exasperated face under her mask, but she says no. In New York you can only drink while you're eating, so there's no sense rushing through the meal. I leave a few seconds in between each word of the conversation and I have plenty of time to gather my thoughts, which seem to have spilled out into the street.

     The next day we unpacked our bicycles and rode the O & W Rail Trail from Kingston. The railroad was de-commissioned in 1957, but it's a good idea to look both ways before riding, since the Ontario and Western railroad was notorious for being late. After a vigorous ride it was time to rest my weary legs for an on-the-trail picnic. I packed sandwiches and some all-natural apple juice boxes to replenish those valuable lost nutrients. I pierced my juice box with the enclosed straw, which formed a siphon and immediately emptied all over my leg. It was certainly a much more efficient way to deliver those much-needed nutrients to my legs than what I had in mind. I assume this kind of thing happens to everyone else but maybe not.

     A ride on the Catskill Mountain Railroad was a relaxing way to end the afternoon. About ten or so open flatcars trailing a locomotive pulled out of Kingston at 3:00. We were socially distanced and cozy in the warm sun. Since I've been working from home so long I've forgotten how to ride a train. Luckily there was a conductor on board for those who can't remember how to conduct themselves. We steamed westward toward the towering Rocky Mountains. Exciting, because I've never been to the Rocky Mountains. We didn't quite make it all the way there since we turned around after 13 miles, but I already had that mile-high feeling. When we got back to the hotel after dinner we turned on the TV to Fox News: "Trump leading Georgia!" And then we switched to CNN: "Biden leading Georgia!" And I guess I knew that no matter how nice my weekend escape was, there was always the chance that I would be recaptured.