Page 55 - Philly Girl

Philly Girl 39

We hitchhiked there with no money, no tent, and no
plan for the weekend. I was arrested on Route 95 in New
London, Connecticut, as a runaway, even though I was 18.
Maybe 21 was the legal age at that time. I conned the cops
into believing me when I pretended to call home. Actually,
I called their own number, got a busy signal, and created
a blatantly false conversation with my “parents.” I told the
police that they approved of my plan to go to Woodstock
and that hitchhiking was fine with them. Oh boy. I have no
idea how the police believed me but they did.
Woodstock was a total mess. People are pretty impressed
when I say I was at Woodstock, but for me, the only good
thing about it was seeing Jimi Hendrix live. It was muddy,
crowded, and unsanitary with few port-a-potties, unruly
trippers hallucinating, and nothing to eat. Lynne and I had
nowhere to sleep, although some boys offered us money to
stay in their tent. We said no and just became a sodden soak-
ing mess until the sun came up and we escaped.
Back on the road. I had lost my shoes in the mud, so I
was barefooting on the highway. Scary truckers picked us up.
It took us 14 hours to wind up in Framingham, Massachu-
setts, where Lynne had a furious aunt and uncle who agreed
to pick us up. I was so grateful. They drove us to Hyannis
the next day and we recovered from the horror of Wood-
stock. For me, that summer wasn’t about love and peace or
anything but chaos, hallucination, pouring rain, and being
ripped off by Ellen, whom I thought was my friend. Never
saw her again.
To this day, I have no idea how I ever came back to
Temple with enough money for tuition and room and board
to stay in Williams Hall. What I do know is that I learned
the only way for me to grow up and survive was to escape
and be self-sufficient.