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.