Our final concert essay contest winner is Alena Jones. Little did she know back in 1989 that her substitute teacher was, uh, well, let's just say she was quite well-known in certain circles.

In 1989, I was a 6th grader at Pine Forest Elementary. We had a substitute teacher that year that terrified my classmates. She walked into the room wearing a black leather mini-skirt and half of her head was shaved. Being the daughter of a DJ, I thought she was totally rock and roll! After the majority of my classmates checked out for the day, I sat at her desk and listened to her tell stories about David Lee Roth.

Several months later I had my first opportunity to go backstage at the Poison/Tesla concert at Barton. Accompanied by my stepmother, I waited in line for my chance at an autograph. Out of the corner of my eye I see my substitute teacher. "Look!" I say to my stepmom, "It's my substitute, Miss Hamzy!" My stepmother turns around to see Connie Hamzy coming toward us, bleeding from the mouth. She had been chewing in her VIP tag and accidentally clipped her tongue. "Oh, my God! Your sub was Sweet Connie?"

Miss Hamzy remembered me and after apologizing for her appearance, she asked me to wait there. After a few moments she returned with a sign from Tesla's dressing room door and a set list for the concert that she gave to me. We took photos together and she gave me a hug and disappeared into the crowd. I never did get my autograph from the band, but I still have the things she gave to me.

Winner No. 3 in our concert essay contest is Lindsay Corolla. Her tale illustrates one of the more unanticipated perils of the mosh-pit. Bruises? Sure. Broken bones? Certainly a possibility. Barf-blast? Yyyyyyuck! I wonder if her dad ever let her borrow the car again?

When I was 17 years old, I thought I was cool. I listened to gritty, whiney punk rock and wore vintage band t-shirts. So obviously, when Warped Tour was set to hit the nearby city of Pittsburgh, I begged my disapproving father to let me go. He reluctantly allowed me to borrow his brand new SUV to cart my lame wannabe-edgy friends and I to a random field filled with makeshift stages, PETA stickers, and skinny boys with hair covering their eyes. Heaven.

After a wrong turn or two, we did successfully arrive at the venue, but only to park at least a mile away. It was about 90 degrees that day. Finally my friends and I, eyeliner melting down our angst-ridden faces, entered the doors in time to catch Boys Like Girls’ set. They were relevant then. We jumped right into the mosh-pit, which immediately turned ugly. The overweight teenager pushing in front of me apparently couldn’t handle the heat or the guitar riffs. She turned to face me in preparation of escaping the pit as quickly as possible.

I saw the dread in her eyes as she realized her efforts were futile. She vomited all over me. I hadn’t been there 20 minutes. Did I mention it was 90 degrees? To prove I was hardcore I continued moshing while slimy morsels hardened on my arms and legs. Then I went to the bathroom and cried.

And that’s the story of how my dad lost that “new car smell.”

• Jeremy Reagan (he's the one with the circle around his head) on stage with Everclear et al.

Our next concert essay contest winner is Jeremy Reagan, whose story of adolescent rock-fantasy fulfillment goes to show that sometimes you've just got to grab life by the horns and get up there and show 'em what you've got.

In 1999, when I was 18, I saw Everclear at Memphis in May. This was at the height of their popularity, so the crowd was gigantic. My friend Jordan and I fought our way to the front of the crowd, where we shouted the words to every song at the top of our lungs.

After about an hour, the band stopped, and Art Alexakis (the frontman) started picking people out of the crowd to get onstage. I got picked, and Art helped me climb up on the stage. I couldn’t believe it.

To make it even crazier the band started playing my favorite song, “Local God,” a track from the “Romeo and Juliet” soundtrack. I knew every word, and was dancing my ass off along with the other people onstage. Near the end, Art pointed back at me, and then nodded his head toward the mic. He wanted me to sing!

Some ballsy part of me that I probably don’t even have now (maybe it was just youth) grabbed the mic and proceeded to sing to a crowd of thousands. I could see my friend in the crowd snapping pics with his disposable camera (hey, it was the nineties!) and the rest of them were wide-eyed in amazement that I was up there. It was totally unbelievable. I was 18 years old, and got to sing my favorite song with my favorite band. How many people can say that? It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

Last week on Rock Candy, we put out a call for essays about your craziest, funniest, most awful or hilarious or heartwarming or hair-raising concert experiences, offering a pair of passes to Bonnaroo to the people who wrote the four best ones.

Well after reading 30-some-odd essays, we've selected the four winners. Narrowing it down wasn't easy — you all have some pretty good stories (some of ya'll have truly crazy stories and might should consider seeking professional guidance. Just kidding kind of!).

First up, we've got this truly heartwarming tale of a good deed, a serendipitous encounter and karmic reward, from reader David Rice.

The Grateful Dead would only play twelve more shows together following those two nights at Giants Stadium in June 1995, but I was having a blast before I saw the sign written on cardboard: "DAVID R___, I HAVE YOUR WALLET! STAY HERE!!!"

I did not move. Inside my wallet were tickets to each of the remaining shows, plus over $500 in cash. Whoever found the wallet would be set for the rest of the summer if they kept it.

A stranger eventually approached, holding my driver’s license. He asked my address and birthday before returning the wallet. I rifled through the cash, not to count it, but to give him a reward. He refused to take it. "Once I found your wallet, giving it back was the right thing to do. I don't need a reward for doing the right thing." We chatted for a bit then went our separate ways.

I told this story about a year ago on a Phish message board, and someone claimed to be that kind stranger. After a few messages, there was no doubt that we were both who we claimed. Jon and I have become friends online, though we have never met up again.

Since I had nobody to join me if I won this contest, I reached out to Jon, now living in Arizona. He said he would love to join me at Bonnaroo if we won and thanked me for thinking of him. I told him it is the right thing to do.

• The Times is giving away four pairs of passes to Bonnaroo.

So Bonnaroo is coming up soon in beautiful Manchester, Tenn. (June 7-10, to be precise) and the Arkansas Times has four pairs of passes to the gigantic music festival to give away to you, our loyal readers. “But how can I win one of these pairs of passes?” you’re probably wondering. Glad you asked.

All you have to do is write us an essay of 250 words or fewer about your craziest, funniest, most awful or hilarious or heartwarming or hair-raising concert experience and you'll be entered in the contest. While that might sound like homework, just consider these two things: 1) 250 words is not that many; and 2) you’ll get the chance to see Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Phish, The Beach Boys, The Roots, Alice Cooper, Feist, Sharon Jones and The Dap-Kings, Tune-Yards, St. Vincent, The Shins, Skrillex, Kenny Rogers (!), Bad Brains (!!), Garfunkel & Oates (!!!), GZA, Kurt Vile, Alabama Shakes, Flying Lotus and literally dozens more.

We’ll pick the four essays that we find to be the craziest, funniest, most awful or hilarious or heartwarming or hair-raising of the bunch, and each winner will receive two passes. It’s that simple.

Now the caveats and whatnot: the contest isn’t open to any current or former Times employees or their kinfolk (sorry ya’ll!); you should only enter if you actually plan on going to the festival (no scalping!); 250 words or fewer, seriously (brevity is the soul of wit!); only one entry per person; the contest closes a week from today (May 22 at 9 a.m.); email your name, phone number and essay (as well as any questions you might have) to robertbell@arktimes.com.

So get to writing! It’ll be fun. We’ll publish the winners here on Rock Candy.

• "STOMP" comes to UCA March 27.

UPDATE: And we have our winners. Congrats to Edith Paal, Joe Busby, Samantha Wolf-Turilli, Matt Niles, Kristen Hitchcock, Cecillia Mayo and Jim Wheeler.

That's right, here's your opportunity to win a pair of tickets to "STOMP", which is coming to UCA next Tuesday, March 27.

Here's what you need to do: send me an email (robertbell@arktimes.com). Yup, that's it. The first seven people to email me will win a pair of tickets to the romping, stomping, rumbling, crashing, smashing, non-traditional instrument bashing percussion extravaganza.

Sound good?

Here's a sample of what's in store:

• Cheree Franco

If you think your pet is the cutest ever and you want to win camera equipment and help dogs and cats find homes, enter the "It Takes A Village” Dog & Cat Photo Contest. Friends of the Animal Village and Bedford Camera & Video are accepting submissions till April 30, and all entry fee proceeds ($10 a pop, multiple entries welcome) subsidize adoption fees at the Little Rock Animal Village during the spring adoption drive.

Best overall winners receive $200 gift certificates to Bedford Camera. Category winners (which include Best Dressed, Star Athlete and Clown) receive a blown up canvas print and a dog or cat gift basket. Celeb judges include Mayor Mark Stodola and Sheriff Doc Holladay. You can enter pictures of any cat or dog — the little furry friend doesn't have to be your own pet. And if you need fresh subjects, Little Rock Animal Village will be happy to lend a few and probably even happier if you took one of the little buddies home with you.

For complete contest details, see the Friends of the Animal Village website.