We drove an old faux-wood-paneled station wagon packed with six of us plus backpacks, tents and coolers. All for a music festival at the tip-top of Maine. Ironically, the craziest event on that trip had nothing to do with music, cramped quarters, camping, lighthouses or stopping for lobster rolls at McDonald's. No, no. Strung out on coffee, ginseng and pep pills, I wandered into a rest-stop bathroom, washed my face, smiled at the women next to me, dried my hands under the blower, then met the scared gaze of a little girl peeking from behind... More >>>