How (Not) To Get Into Glastonbury
A Little Chaos En Route to a Waters Gig
This is a very unusual story of a simple man trying to make his way into a festival site to see the final concert of a world tour by his idol, Roger Waters.
Back when the In The Flesh World Tour 2002 was announced in October 2001 there were some rumours that he would finally end this huge tour at the legendary Glastonbury festival. I knew that this concert would be a historic event, but I wasn't too keen on going. After all, I absolutely loathe the idea of festivals. Still, this is Roger Waters we're talking about. Eventually, sometime during April intheflesh2002.com, the 'official' fansite of the tour, announced that Glastonbury had been confirmed.
But I still wasn't sure about going. After having a few talks on this subject in Antwerp and Rotterdam back in May with Si and Phil, who gave contradictory advice, I finally decided that I would overcome my dislikes of festivals and go to Glastonbury to witness this historic show. But that was easier said than done: tickets for the event had sold out two weeks after they had gone on sale in April, two months before the official line-up had been confirmed and a full month before I made the decision attend. Furthermore, in the weeks leading up to it I read on the official Glastonbury website that there would be strict safety regulations and that as a part of this you shouldn't bother going anywhere near the festival site if you didn't have a ticket.
But I presumed this was simple propaganda to scare away people who would be looking to get inside for free. There would plenty of tickets available through ticket touts or other 'unofficial' sources, or so I believed. Reality would turn out to be quite different from my assumptions.
Roger's show would be on Sunday night and I would still be in London until Friday night, hanging out with some fantastic people from the In The Flesh 2002 chat board from all over the world. So Saturday would be the time to leave for Glastonbury. I was fortunate enough that my good friend David LeHunte volunteered to drive me there. On our way we saw some nice features of the English countryside, highlighted by a short but sweet visit to Stonehenge.
At about 2 PM we arrived near Pilton, the extremely small town where the actual festival takes place and we soon found out that it wasn't just propaganda that was being advertised on the website: security was indeed very tight as we couldn't even pass beyond a first checkpoint at about 4 miles from the fence if we didn't show a ticket. So we drove along around the surroundings of the site for about half an hour, looking for a place where there appeared to be some ticket touts around. The only suitable place seemed to be the town centre of Pilton. And when I say town centre, I mean that there were a few houses, one shop and one pub. The village was indeed that small.
Still, there appeared to be quite some people there so I decided that this would be my best shot. I said goodbye to David, thanked him for all the generous efforts and made my way to the pub. I was immediately approached by someone who asked if I had a spare ticket. I answered that I was looking for one myself. He said that he could arrange that for me and a minute later I was negotiating the price with one of his 'colleagues'. I knew the face value was around 100 pounds, but that the laws of supply and demand were in control here, so I was prepared to pay around 200 pounds. So I was quite relieved to pay "only" 140 pounds for the ticket he offered me.
But this is where events take an ugly turn: the ticket they gave me didn't appear to be a real ticket, but a 'pass out' which would allow people who had left the festival site to get back inside. But I had heard from Phil, who was already inside, that you'd need your original ticket and your bracelet along with this 'pass out' to get in. So I started to discuss the validity of the ticket with the seller.
While I was doing this I made the critical mistake to simply hold the ticket in my hand to study it and suddenly some kid who probably wasn't even older than 16 simply sneaked up from behind and snatched it from my hands. He simply walked away from me back to his group of his friends (about 6 or 7 of them) and I saw him pass the ticket to one of them. At first I just thought they were just pulling some prank on me and I went over to plead with them to give me my ticket back.
But I soon found out this wasn't a prank, because first they all laughed at me, saying they didn't have it. Finally someone said: "We'll give it back to you for 50 pounds!" This was unbelievable. I couldn't believe how incredibly stupid I had been to have let this happen and how stupid I had been to absolutely want to see this show, even though I had already seen 7 shows on the tour. I also began to curse Roger for wanting to end his tour here because that was the only reason why I was in this situation in the first place.
But now I was stuck in it and I didn't really know what to do. The only thing I could think of was to haggle with these kids and I eventually foolishly gave them 20 pounds. But instead of giving me back the ticket they just got up from where they sat and walked away, laughing out loud. Before I could react to this I felt that someone was trying to open the pocket in my trousers where I kept my wallet. I pulled my leg away, turned around and saw that it was the same kid who had snatched my ticket that was now trying to steal my wallet.
By this point I was just a tad miffed, so I grabbed him and pushed him away, saying: "Clear off, mate!" I thought that he would understand the message and just leave me alone, but apparently he felt that I had done a great injustice to him: he looked extremely pissed off at me and took a swing at me. I was so surprised by his arrogant reaction that I didn't even think of defending myself, so his blow struck me with full force on my left ear. Fortunately it almost didn't hurt. Or that was what I thought: in the following hours and days it would become clear that the brunt of the blow had connected with my shoulder because I discovered there was a nasty bruise there when I got back home on Monday. Also, my jaw was a bit sore for a few days, but that wasn't where the real pain lied at that moment.
The kid then also left and there was nothing I could do about so I just grabbed my tent again and started trying to figure out what to do. As one might imagine, I had lost almost all hope at this point. The only option seemed to be finding a cash machine nearby, collect some new cash and start from scratch. Someone came up to me and asked if I was just going to let those kids get away with that. "What can I do? I'm all alone here and they're with at least 7 people! Who's going to help me? You?!" And he didn't even bother to answer that question.
But this is where my luck started to change: someone pointed out that a guard at a security checkpoint across the road was motioning to me. I hadn't even noticed that there was a checkpoint there. I went over to the guard and he told me that he had seen the whole thing and had notified the police. But I didn't really care about that because I was convinced that my assailant would be long gone by now and I wouldn't even recognise his gang.
But sure enough, in less than two minutes the police were there with their Land Rover van. I told them what had happened and they asked me to come sit in the front of the van and that we would be driving in the direction of where those kids had left. I was sure that this would be in vain, but lo and behold, after only one or two minutes driving we passed by my attacker. "Stop! That's him over there!" I shouted. They stopped the van and asked which kid it was exactly. Two police officers left the van and told me to sit tight. They stopped the kid and he had to spread against a wall by the side of the road so he could be searched. This was at least something, but I didn't really care because I was sure that it wouldn't help me anyway: the kid didn't have my ticket any more and he'd surely deny the whole story. So I looked down in resignation.
When I looked back up again I saw to my complete surprise that this kid had been so completely stupid to run away like hell, therefore virtually admitting guilt. But the officers had a hard time catching up with him. I warned the driver and it took him ages to get the van turned around. But when we finally drove in the right direction we were stopped after a few hundred yards by a security guard and I immediately saw the kid lying on the side of the road with two police officers on top of him.
A few minutes later my assailant was taken away in another police van and the two officers who had captured him (apparently with the aid of a security guard) rejoined us in the Land Rover. They told me that they had to handle the kid pretty roughly so at least I should get some sort of revenge from that. I gave them a wry smile and said: "Yeah, sure." But all I really wanted was to get inside. Things were starting to look up when they said that I'd have to come along to the police station inside the festival site.
When we got the police station (actually they were just few tents and barracks serving as offices) the officers told me that they'd try to arrange something for me. In the meantime I had to tell my complete story. First the short version to a female police officer, which took about a half hour to note down. Then a detective from the C.I.D. came up and he took me to a different room where I had to tell the complete story. While I was doing this I could hear No Doubt playing in the background, probably on the Pyramid Main Stage. In the end my statement turned out to be a report of six handwritten pages and it took more than an hour to complete. I have to thank the British police here because they were extremely understanding and helpful, despite the fact that it was clear that I had been immensely foolish.
In the end another detective from the C.I.D. came inside and told me that they usually don't let people who have been robbed inside the festival because they don't have the authority to allow that. Besides, too many people use that trick to get inside anyway. But, he said, my case was different--the culprit had been found and there were many witnesses to the incident, including three security guards, which made it absolutely clear that I had been robbed. I, of course, never bothered to tell them that it probably wasn't even a valid ticket they had taken from me.
 Roger Waters performing at the 2002 Glastonbury Fesitval |
So they allowed me inside anyway! I received a paper with victim support guidelines and he wrote down my case file number and the name of the detective in charge of my case and they told me that I should show that to security if they should ever hassle me.
But that fortunately never happened. All I had to do was to come back on Sunday morning to see if I had to give any additional details to my statement and that didn't turn out to be necessary. So I was free to go inside the festival for the rest of the weekend. My general feeling after this whole incident? Incredibly lucky! I mean, it's almost certain that I would have been denied admission if I had presented the ticket that I had bought to a checkpoint. So this robbery was necessary for my entrance, and all it cost me was 160 pounds (which was less than I had expected to pay), a sore jaw and shoulder (which weren't that bad), and a visit to the police station. Hell, the package deal even included a live police chase, thrown in free of charge!
I am sure of one thing, though: the universe, or fate, or God, or whatever you want to believe in, wanted--no, demanded--that I would see this concert. There is simply no other explanation for it. Things were just meant to happen this way.
And the rest of my weekend? Absolutely tremendous, thank you. Half an hour after I got inside I found the intheflesh2002.com crew: Phil W and his family, Gregory and his family, and Eric & Joe, who had come all the way from the States to witness this. A few hours later we were also joined by Kevin Bootleg who had had even more luck than me and was able to get in for only 10 pounds!! This was my first festival and it was a great experience. Because of the very strict security regulations outside there weren't any 'unwanted guests' inside, so there was a very mellow atmosphere. And the company that I was staying with was also very wonderful. I was glad to help out Kevin by sharing my tent.
A first and very surprising highlight came on Saturday night when Phil told me Robert Plant would be playing in the acoustic tent with his new band Strange Sensation and that he had said that he would also be playing some Zeppelin classics. I didn't even notice his name on the bill so this was a very welcome surprise. Always nice to see a rock legend, and sure enough, he did play a few of the old Zep classics. The last song, an emotional ballad of which I can't remember the title, was even dedicated to the late "Ox", John Entwistle.
Plant also made the funniest comment of the weekend when he announced their version of "Hey Joe": "This next song we're going to be playing... was written... by someone..."
Sunday was of course the day and I also saw some good artists before Roger. A great moment was during Isaac Hayes's setlist when he played his South Park classic, Chef's "Chocolate Salty Balls"!
But it was of course Roger that we had come for, and he didn't disappoint. I was able to get to about the 4th row of people at the front of the stage and the atmosphere there was amazing. During the more popular songs it was even almost impossible to hear the band playing because everyone was singing along at the top of their lungs. Despite a few minor mistakes (Chester had to change guitars while he was singing the first verse of "Dogs", and Snowy accidentally touched a guitar string a bit too soon right before the end solo in "It's A Miracle") this atmosphere made the whole concert an almost religious experience, the absolute highlight being "Comfortably Numb". I don't think I've ever shouted out the line "Iiiiiiiiiiiii have become comfortably numb" with more enthusiasm than at this show! Another great moment was during "Flickering Flame" when Phil gave me a wink when Roger sang the line "On an African plain, by a thorn tree, my old friend Philippe is waiting for me".
And afterwards, when I came home, it was great to find out that I had actually made it to the BBC broadcast. ;-) But it was a bit disappointing that they didn't show "Another Brick In The Wall", because that's when Phil and I were holding up our special banner, being sure this song would be broadcasted on TV. The banner had four Floyd/Roger references and it read:
"If you are Watching TV Wish You Were Here In The Flesh"
Overall, the whole weekend was a fantastic experience, well worth all the hassle on Saturday afternoon. There is one moment that I will particularly remember: on Saturday night, when we were waiting for Robert Plant in the acoustic tent, Nick Lowe was playing, just him and his guitar. One of the songs he played had a chorus that went like: "What's so funny about peace, love and understanding?" Given what had happened to me earlier that day, that said about all, really.
As an epilogue I'd like to add that I was called by the Bristol police in early August. They told me my assailant had pleaded 'not guilty' and my testimony would be needed to secure a conviction at the trial, otherwise the case would be dismissed.
I told them travelling to the UK would for just a trial would be extremely inconvenient for me. So the guy will walk away without a conviction. Oh, well. I already got what I wanted from that trip. But it still leaves a sour taste in my mouth.