1996, rolled into BRC at night in mini-van… exhausted after making dozens of sophomore mistakes. Dragging along a girlfriend and my best friend who had listened to me for a year of jabber on like an idiot about this crazy punk rock festival. I roll right into the center of center camp – which at that time basically consisted of not much more than a pop-up tent, a beer cooler, and some big dog heads. A guy in a cowboy hat comes up and ask me what I’m doing. “Oh hi, Larry. I’m completely disoriented.” He got me acclimated and was very nice about it. 10 months or so later I interviewed him in NYC in front of CBGBs. (I’ll try to find the tapes). My impression of him over the years was of a visionary with skin as thick as a crocodile. I’d like to think that he and Pepe are having a smoke and laugh right now. I have no idea what it is like for virgins to arrive these days, but I know back then, from day one, you knew in your bones that EVERYTHING WAS DIFFERENT HERE.