Naked! In A Freaking Truck!

Unfortunately, down on the lawn where T2K was being perpetrated, we had a choice: pounding metal with a shrimpy little singer wearing spooooky gray eye makeup all down his cheeks—whooooo!—or pounding techno by any one of a half-dozen DJs spinning at the same time, their beats melding into one another. It was the loudest place I have ever been, and by 3 p.m. (the concert started at 11 a.m.), there were approximately four people present.

An aged Angus steak and free head—hell, even my equal pay for equal work!—couldn't have made us stay.