This is a work of fiction. It is not intended to portray events as they really happened. It is not intended to encourage any particular types of behavior that are irresponsible. It should be read for amusement only.

         It was July in 1970. Byron, Georgia, south of Atlanta and not to far from where they build Blue Bird buses. And it was hot. 105 in the shade at least. In the day time, nothing much was happening really. I mean you could go down to the free stage and hear the Allman Brothers almost everyday, but they were going to play Sunday. And besides, the sun would fry your brain.

         We were located in a bean field off a two lane road. And the problem was that there were about 550,000 people there to see Jimi Hendrix, Procol Harum, BB King, Mott the Hoople, Ten Years After, Poco, Johnny Winter And, Lee Michaels, Terry Reid, Ritchie Havens, Rare Earth, The Chambers Brothers, The Allman Brothers, Goose Creek Symphony, Grand Funk, Mountain, Hampton's Grease Band (you guys might know him now as Col. Bruce Hampton as in the Aquarium Rescue Unit), It's A Beautiful Day, and of course, among others, John Sebastian.

         This was the Second, and last Atlanta International Pop Festival. And some of it was filmed. Maybe one day we'll get to see it. I was 16 years old and promised my parents that I wouldn't do drugs if they would just let me go see Jimi Hendrix. Now, you got to understand that back then, drugs were very very cool. There was no just say no mentality at all. It was in fact, the drug culture. At its Zenith really cause Chicago with the Sly and The Family Stone riots and Alatamont with the Stone killings were just months away. So this was like a farwell party, only we didn't know it.

         So anyway, I am lying under this small grove of pine trees with Sam and Scott. We were trying to stay warm. I was lying on my American flag which I carried around back then to use in the case of an emergency. And it was good for ground cover.

         Sam was selling grams of blonde Lebanonese hash. And everytime he would meet someone else selling hash, they would trade a gram for a gram. Then Sam would take the grams and mix them up in one big vial. Naturally, what with nothing else to do but wait on the night and the music, after each gram was added, we would try the blend to see if it was improving. And to be honest with you, I don't remember if it was or not.

         Now, what we were hoping was that some fine young hippie chicks were gonna come along looking to hang with some young boys who were loaded and holding. To the best of my recollection, we musta been too young, cause I don't remember any hippie chicks stopping by.

         Well, we are lying there in our haze, with the sun beating down and Scott says, "Hey! Look at that idiot." Course Sam and I slowly raised our selves up and asked which idiot cause as far as we could see there were about 50,000 people besides our selves that could have been labeled idiots for being out in that sun. "The guy over there in the tie die. He's wearing flannel tie die trying to look like John Sebastian," and commenced to laughing on of those stoned belly laughs that usually spread like a 2 second virus till you and your friends are all laughing so hard and long that you get scared cause you can't remember WHY you started laughing. And it was spreading, cause Sam started laughing too. "Man you are so right, he's even got the damn sideburns too!" Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, like two drug crazed maniacs they were laughing. Only not me, cause I am thinking he's the real deal.

         "Uh, hey man, I think that is John Sebastian man. Like far out dude."

         "Uh, man, no way," says Sam. "What would a dude like that be doing out here man." I mean that would be groovy and all, but man, you're fucked up man. I mean you are tripping if you think that is John Sebastian."

         So I say, "Well I may be trailing, but I ain't tripping man. And that is John Sebastian man. Remember in Woodstock when he sang that song man. About the Generations man. He was like way into the Woodstock thing. I bet it is him."

         So then Scott pipes in and says, with a undercurrent of laughter like, Bentz is so crazy, he'll do this, "Well man, if you like fucking think that asshole is John fuckin Sebastian, why don't you go invite him over."

         So I did, and it was. I told him that my friends didn't believe it was him and he came right on over and squatted down next to where we were lying in the shade. He said that he liked to soak up the ambiance of the crowd and thought that it was even better than Woodstock because it wasn't raining and mud and shit. We told John that we could do with the rain right then.

         We talked for a while about how it was whole city of people and all. We offered him some hash, but he said that he had to get up and sing and play for 500,000 folks that night and didn't want to be all fucked up. I told him about how Minnie Ripperton was all fucked up in West Palm at that fesitval and she just kept talking about nothing, but it didn't keep her from singing like a bird. But he wasn't into it at all.

         I wish I could tell you more about our visit. But, after all, I was just a kid, my friends were stoned, it was damn hot and he was like, the Lovin Spoonful. I mean, he was in the Woodstock movie by God and here he was chatting with some 16 year old stoners under a grove of pine trees. I do remember hoping that he would hand out with us for a while. But he wanted to go see the Hare Krishnas. So, after requesting that he sing The Generation Song, and dedicate it to us, I took him over to the hare krishnas and turned him loose.

         Sometimes I wonder if it was all a hallucination. And I wish that I could meet John Sebastian to ask him if he remembers that afternoon. It could just be a dream from the haze of one too many purple microdots. But, the best I can recall. That was the time I met John Sebastian.

         Again, this is all fiction. But if you want to hear about the time I met Jack Cassidy and Jorma Kaukonen, let me know. That would be for real.