June 2011

It was 7am and the sun was already beating down relentlessly on my tent, so much for sleeping in.  In an “I don’t want to wake up now” haze, I attempted to claw my way out of the sealed vessel in search of cooler air.  As I emerged, hair sticking straight up and out, I could hear a few people stirring around me, but most were just snoring.  Our neighbors had finally passed out and were resting up for round two, the line for the port-a-potties was already exceeding thirty folks, and the showers… two-hour wait.  As people walked by our camp you could just see clouds of dir

I have to admit, I am not an avid Phish follower. I don’t travel to see them, I haven’t bought an album since Farmhouse, and I hadn’t really enjoyed a live show since Greensboro ’03, but this show reminded me of all the things I had forgotten.  I love running into all kinds of people I haven’t seen in years in the parking lot. I love the range of music blasting from the cars parked early for tailgating, and the folks selling all kinds of stuff from food and beverages to art and jewelry.