Amsterdam.

Noise. Piercing, penetrating noise. Fucking, unbelievable noise. What the hell was going on? Billy lifted his sleepy head with annoyance. It seemed to come from outside. He gently pushed a still sleeping Dom’s arm from his waist, got out of bed and walked to the window. When he shoved the curtain out of the way and opened the window to look outside, he noticed two black, man-sized speakers that were blurting out heavy-base Techno. In front of it were five young people that were wearing orange clothes from top till bottom doing a little dance. Billy had seen a lot of weird things in his life, but he thought that this was definitely worth a spot in his top ten. Especially-he glanced on his watch- since it was only ten past five in the morning.

He turned to his bed and noticed Dominic had returned to his own room.

They all sat downstairs to have breakfast, meaning a cup of tea (coffee for Elijah) and Dutch rusk with young cheese.
“Say Orlando, you still haven’t told us what we’re going to do today. Please don’t tell me we’re going on a fieldtrip to the mills, tulips and wooden clogs!” Dom jawed.
“Oh, keep your pants on, missy! No such thing, but I can assure you it’s gonna kick ass.” Orlando smiled self-assured. Dom looked puzzled; so did Elijah. Billy on the other hand, was distracted; he couldn’t help thinking about what happened last night. Or, to be more precise; what didn’t happen last night. “Why the hell had Dom climbed into his bed and what had been up with that arm?”
“Earth to Billy! Hey! Are you even awake?”
Billy startled.
“God Billy! What’s the matter with you? Come on, we’re going!” Billy pulled himself toer aer and followed the others outside.

The sun was already burning, although it was yet only the last day of April.
“Well, gentlemen, you’re extremely lucky. We don’t often get weather like that. Hope you brought your sunglas” Th” The woman of the reception –whose name turned out to be Maria- looked content. “Here they are, Mr. Bloom, just as requested.” She pointed to four, shining white bikes. Dom and Lij’s jaws almost dropped to the floor when they realised what their friend had cooked. Orlando’s grin widened. ”Excellent.”
“Now, who hasn’t ridden a bike before?” Maria asked. When she didn’t get an immediate answer, she said: “Okay, well then it shouldn’t be a problem riding them. But remember to double-lock them at all time; there are hundreds of junkies out there that are just waiting to get their filthy hands on them.” She began a demonstration “how-to-lock-your-bike-so-it-won’t-get-snatched-from-underneath-you” and the boys were looking in awe at her swift movements.

Luckily, the bikes didn’t have a bar they could fall on and that was a great relieve, since they all hadn’t ridden a bike since they were children.
Cycling along, they got an answer to the mystery of the weird little people they saw on the pavements the night before. On the ground sheets there were hundreds of knick-knacks and the most bizarre, old objects that were being sold: lampshades, puzzles, clothes, books, toys, furniture… You name it, it was for sale. It looked like those people had completely emptied out their attics. Despite to the early hour, there already were lots of orange-clothed people looking for cheap bargains.

Orlando was leading the way and the rest had no idea where they were going. They were pressing him for information, but he wouldn’t give any. After a while, they just gave up; Orlando was notorious for his stubbornness, so they knew he wouldn’t tell anyway.

They avoided the tram-rails, just like Maria told them too; just last year there had been a tourist run over who had got stuck in the rails with his bike. Sadly, he hadn’t survived.

Orlando’s route led them outside the city, over cycle-paths that were flanked with loads of trees. The sun was climbing, warming their skin. They occasionally stopped for Elijah’s smoke-break, which they didn’t mind at all; their bums weren’t used to biking like the Dutch do.

“Funny”, Billy thought, “how just one event can change your life completely; if I hadn’t got that part in the trilogy, I wouldn’t be here now… enjoying the landscape, the weather, the company of friends, Dom’s firm ass on that saddle in front of me… No wait! I don’t want to think that! Stop it, stop it, just stóp it! Oh, great, now I can’t think about anything else! Think about something else… hmmm, what about those rabbits I see playing there… cute, innocent rabbits… sweet fluffy rabbits… that are on top of each other… what? Nóóóó! They are shagging each other’s brains out! Stupid, slutty rabbits! Now I can’t think of anything else than shagging Dom! Argh!”
Billy thought he was getting insane, so he started talking to Elijah, who was cycling next to him, to distract his bewildered mind.

After about two and a half hour, Orlando announced that they were reaching their destiny. “About sodding time, Orli! I thought we were never gonna get of these damned bikes.” “Oh, just shut it, will ya? Bunch of freaking sissy’s!” There was some funny bitching over and forth before they really reached their goal: the beach of Bloemendaal at sea.

“A day at the beach…” Elijah sighed content. He loved the beach, the ocean, the salty smell of the wind, hell, even the seagulls.

Padlocking the bikes like Maria had told them to, proved to be more difficult then they thought, but they managed anyway. Orlando led them to what looked like a sort of wooden boulevard. To the right, where all sorts of beachclubs, with names like: “Tropen aan zee, de Kust, Lido Bloemendaal, Republiek, Strandclub Solaris, de Zomer”… One even more prestigious than the other, those perfect white buildings with perfect public wearing perfect fashion on their perfect boobs and abs, listening to perfect lounge-music, drinking perfect colorful cocktails that were brought to them to perfect waiters in perfect polo’s and stylish three-quarter pants.

Was this really the way that Orlando wanted to spend the day? Hanging around plastic people that were showing off their latest expensive cell-phones to each other? Billy dreaded the prospect. Instead of sitting down somewhere, Orlando kept on walking, followed by his friends.
Suddenly, they saw something that didn’t resemble all the other clubs. It was a collection of buildings that mostly were made out of unfinished, dark wood. No reclining-chairs, fancy pansy cocktails or lounge-music here. Instead, there were old couches and big old chairs standing in the sand. On it, were smiling people that looked like they had grabbed whatever clothing out of their closets that had been first at hand. A DJ had just put on “Groove is in the heart”. In front of his turntable, were some dirty-faced little kids dancing. There were a couple of girls leaning against a red painted shed, making out.

“Gentlemen, welcome to “Woodstock”.