The moment ends...
Needless to say, I have about a million pictures to post, and twice as many stories. I can't post them all at one time, but the amount I put on here will probably crash your computer and/or make you get bored and hate tree-hugging hippie crap. Deal with it.
And so our trip began on my birthday. We traveled 12 hours in the car and then camped in the rain. Not to be a grumpy gills, but that's not exactly my idea of birthday fun. Not to mention I didn't get any presents, except $100 from my dad. Woo, birthdays.
The one good point was the stream by our campsite was magnificent. I took a walk and hugged some trees, because I'm a nature freak, and there ain't nothin' wrong with it.
The next day we visited the "Weed Farm."
Oh yeah, and this is Tim, Mike's brother. He traveled all the way from Italy to see his first and last Phish show ever. He wanted "the full Phish experience." I'm pretty sure he got it.
Mike.
I made mom pull over about 7 times on the road out from our campsite. I think it was worth it.
Burlington, Vermont. My future home.
It was so refreshing to see protesters. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time we were in Burlington. That place makes me so damn happy.
North Beach Campground.
There was a frog in the shower with me. He jumped on me, we made friends. It was good.
On Thursday we got in line. It had been raining for about a month in Vermont, and it continued to until Saturday morning. We waited in line for about 14 hours. Mom and I went for a walk.
We were on our way back to the car, and it started pouring so hard it was painful. We took shelter under an awning, and ended up meeting Jasmine, who we sold my sister's ticket to.
We were sitting in the car for about a half hour, and Jasmine came back. She gave us a ring and told us to give it to Erina and thank her for letting her have this opportunity, and she was sorry she couldn't come. God, I'll miss Phish phans.
I can't remember the last time I've seen so many men peeing.
Tim:
Mike:
Later on in the night, I got drunk and took some pictures. At the time, I felt very artistic.
P is for Phish.
The Common Ground Cafe.
In my entire lifetime, I have never seen so much mud. There were countless cars stuck in the mud, being pulled out by tractors and forklifts. There were entire fields flooded, with about a foot of water. The first day mom and I got lost for about 3-4 hours. We got stuck in downpour after downpour. There were people whose campsites had rivers flowing through them. A guy was sitting there with water up to his knees, watching it flow through his tent. A few people even made the futile attempt to make a dam, and failed miserably. After hours of walking and frustration, a group of people on a tractor helped us find our campsite. I've never been so relieved to see the van. The mud was...ridiculous.
Tim is so photogenic.
Every night we had to wash our feet before getting into the tents.
Friday came and went, and on Saturday the band came over the radio and announced they had no choice but to start turning people away, tickets or none, because there was too much mud and no place to put people. They started turning cars around on the highway, and most of them parked it, and walked in. I met someone who walked 25 miles to the gates, with nothing but what was on their back. Now that's dedication. It just made the whole thing that much more emotional.
Our campsite was about an hour walk from the concert field. We definitely didn't mind, because there was so incredibly much to see and do on the way there. I met some guys selling hemp clothes.
I saw dreadlocks of all sorts, and every kind of tye-dye you can imagine.
Something I'll never see again: Goo-ball stands, signs for ganga brownies, a man blowing glass custom in front of me, nuggets out in the open for sale, the overabundant sale of patchwork, boys in broomstick skirts, this many hippies in one place.
This huge wagon was supposedly supposed to carry the band while they played a set through the campsites. It never happened. I'm guessing that's because there was a foot of mud everywhere.
The worst part was the stretch right near the concert field. There was no way around it, and for most people, there was no way to wear shoes in it without losing them.
Did I mention the mud came with free bugs?
We waited in anticipation, and enjoyed the fact that everyone around us was either smoking, or preparing to.
The entrance.
Trey started crying almost immediately. Notice, Trey is crying and Mike has a grin on his face. This can be explained by the fact that Trey wanted to break up in the first place, and Mike was the only member to be against it until the end.
They used the trampolines for the last time ever, and after they were done, Trey handed them to the audience, and they were passed around for about 15-20 minutes. It was both sad and inspiring. You had to be there.
I was hoping they'd play Divided Sky, but they didn't.
There was an amazing glowstick war.
There was a man there dressed as Radioactive Man from the Simpsons. There were several men with a ladder. They got together, and behold what resulted.
Apparently the guy was afraid of heights, because despite the fact that the people all around him were chanting, "One more step!" he never made it to the top.
Scenario: We're behind two hippie chicks, along comes this kid, all fucked up and stumbling all over everyone. The girls get a hold of him, and tell him to go ahead and lay down on their tarp. She asked him his name about 293847 times, and all I hear is, "What, what's your name? Buckle?? Did you just say Buckle? Good enough for me. Your new name will be Buckle and you will be my Buckle." When he woke up they found out his real name, but we all agreed Buckle was much better. Yeah, I know, you sort of had to be there. But here's what they looked like anyway.
Buckle:
Hippie chicks:
Trey talking:
Hot chicks with dreads that shake their ass like a polaroid picture, are definitely a part of what makes Phish wonderful.
Sunday.
This guy was passed out when we got there, before the concert even started. We walked past him again, and I think he was slighly coherent. I wanted to take pictures of me doing stupid/obscene things to him, but mom wouldn't let me.
BOYS IN SKIRTS MAKE ME SO HAPPY.
This year the Phish visual design team made "The Back Forty." I was the only one of the group who actually walked over and checked everything out. It was awesome.
The upside-down forest:
The rest:
As I was taking a picture of the barns, a drunk man came up to me and began explaining what happened. Apparently there were three barns, and they were supposed to be spread out upside down, but someone sat on them and crushed them. Then he started telling me that if I would just encourage him, he'd go over and tip them over. For a good two solid minutes I heard, "Come on, I'll do it man, I swear. Just say the word. All you have to do is just tell me to go tip it over and I will. Just egg me on man, come on. Where's your sense of adventure?" I finally just walked away.
This man was yelling to everyone offering help with love. I almost took him up on it.
The band.
The Nudedude Barber Shop. (But no one was nude. Damnit.)
Port-o-pottie on wheels.
I looked at this little girl and thought, wow, to be raised in an environment like this has to be amazing. Then I thought, how will she ever find anything like it now that Phish is done?
The last time.
Trey and Mike brought their moms up on stage and danced with them.
And their manager, John Paluska.
I can't really explain it, but it needs a little more cowbell.
Proof that boys in skirts get all the hot chicks:
A Fishman dress.
The last Phish light show I'll ever see.
Blunt.
Fireworks.
As we left, the crowd was eerily silent. I saw grown men cry, including every member of the band. Wading in the Velvet Sea was extremely sad, because they could barely sing because they were crying. That and when Trey said, "I'd like you to help me say goodbye to someone." and then broke into Wilson, the entire audience was having trouble saying Wilson. When they each did a small speech, every one of them cried, Fishman told all the people that walked in that it was the biggest compliment they could have ever given them, and Trey sobbingly told the audience they needed to blow off some steam, as they broke into Split Open and Melt. It was intense, and extremely emotional.
A lot of people were on Ecstasy, and there was a rave/disco set up with a disco ball and a fog machine. As we walked past this guy just kept screaming, "Man, you gotta get in here! It's AMAZING man. Seriously, everybody get in here!"
We didn't go in.
On Monday morning, we packed our stuff and got in line. We waited in line to get out for 8 hours. I went for a walk and lived out my dream of smoking a joint while walking down the main strip. I walked right past security and waved. Never again will I find that kind of freedom. It was honestly, a fantasy land. I didn't ever want to leave.
It was mind-boggling what people left behind. Tents, tarps, sleeping bags, chairs, tables, clothes, drugs, bottles, glowsticks, boots, anything that got muddy. And everything got muddy.
It was an experience, to put it as lightly as possible. I witnessed amazing things, walked around barefoot for 4 days and managed not to die of infection, met amazing people, got to know Mom, Mike, and Tim much better, but most of all, I discovered a part of myself that I had been missing for a long time. I was finally happy. Absurdly happy. I miss it. I know I'll never find anything like it again, but at least I got to experience what I did. I'm still in awe.
And so our trip began on my birthday. We traveled 12 hours in the car and then camped in the rain. Not to be a grumpy gills, but that's not exactly my idea of birthday fun. Not to mention I didn't get any presents, except $100 from my dad. Woo, birthdays.
The one good point was the stream by our campsite was magnificent. I took a walk and hugged some trees, because I'm a nature freak, and there ain't nothin' wrong with it.
The next day we visited the "Weed Farm."
Oh yeah, and this is Tim, Mike's brother. He traveled all the way from Italy to see his first and last Phish show ever. He wanted "the full Phish experience." I'm pretty sure he got it.
Mike.
I made mom pull over about 7 times on the road out from our campsite. I think it was worth it.
Burlington, Vermont. My future home.
It was so refreshing to see protesters. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time we were in Burlington. That place makes me so damn happy.
North Beach Campground.
There was a frog in the shower with me. He jumped on me, we made friends. It was good.
On Thursday we got in line. It had been raining for about a month in Vermont, and it continued to until Saturday morning. We waited in line for about 14 hours. Mom and I went for a walk.
We were on our way back to the car, and it started pouring so hard it was painful. We took shelter under an awning, and ended up meeting Jasmine, who we sold my sister's ticket to.
We were sitting in the car for about a half hour, and Jasmine came back. She gave us a ring and told us to give it to Erina and thank her for letting her have this opportunity, and she was sorry she couldn't come. God, I'll miss Phish phans.
I can't remember the last time I've seen so many men peeing.
Tim:
Mike:
Later on in the night, I got drunk and took some pictures. At the time, I felt very artistic.
P is for Phish.
The Common Ground Cafe.
In my entire lifetime, I have never seen so much mud. There were countless cars stuck in the mud, being pulled out by tractors and forklifts. There were entire fields flooded, with about a foot of water. The first day mom and I got lost for about 3-4 hours. We got stuck in downpour after downpour. There were people whose campsites had rivers flowing through them. A guy was sitting there with water up to his knees, watching it flow through his tent. A few people even made the futile attempt to make a dam, and failed miserably. After hours of walking and frustration, a group of people on a tractor helped us find our campsite. I've never been so relieved to see the van. The mud was...ridiculous.
Tim is so photogenic.
Every night we had to wash our feet before getting into the tents.
Friday came and went, and on Saturday the band came over the radio and announced they had no choice but to start turning people away, tickets or none, because there was too much mud and no place to put people. They started turning cars around on the highway, and most of them parked it, and walked in. I met someone who walked 25 miles to the gates, with nothing but what was on their back. Now that's dedication. It just made the whole thing that much more emotional.
Our campsite was about an hour walk from the concert field. We definitely didn't mind, because there was so incredibly much to see and do on the way there. I met some guys selling hemp clothes.
I saw dreadlocks of all sorts, and every kind of tye-dye you can imagine.
Something I'll never see again: Goo-ball stands, signs for ganga brownies, a man blowing glass custom in front of me, nuggets out in the open for sale, the overabundant sale of patchwork, boys in broomstick skirts, this many hippies in one place.
This huge wagon was supposedly supposed to carry the band while they played a set through the campsites. It never happened. I'm guessing that's because there was a foot of mud everywhere.
The worst part was the stretch right near the concert field. There was no way around it, and for most people, there was no way to wear shoes in it without losing them.
Did I mention the mud came with free bugs?
We waited in anticipation, and enjoyed the fact that everyone around us was either smoking, or preparing to.
The entrance.
Trey started crying almost immediately. Notice, Trey is crying and Mike has a grin on his face. This can be explained by the fact that Trey wanted to break up in the first place, and Mike was the only member to be against it until the end.
They used the trampolines for the last time ever, and after they were done, Trey handed them to the audience, and they were passed around for about 15-20 minutes. It was both sad and inspiring. You had to be there.
I was hoping they'd play Divided Sky, but they didn't.
There was an amazing glowstick war.
There was a man there dressed as Radioactive Man from the Simpsons. There were several men with a ladder. They got together, and behold what resulted.
Apparently the guy was afraid of heights, because despite the fact that the people all around him were chanting, "One more step!" he never made it to the top.
Scenario: We're behind two hippie chicks, along comes this kid, all fucked up and stumbling all over everyone. The girls get a hold of him, and tell him to go ahead and lay down on their tarp. She asked him his name about 293847 times, and all I hear is, "What, what's your name? Buckle?? Did you just say Buckle? Good enough for me. Your new name will be Buckle and you will be my Buckle." When he woke up they found out his real name, but we all agreed Buckle was much better. Yeah, I know, you sort of had to be there. But here's what they looked like anyway.
Buckle:
Hippie chicks:
Trey talking:
Hot chicks with dreads that shake their ass like a polaroid picture, are definitely a part of what makes Phish wonderful.
Sunday.
This guy was passed out when we got there, before the concert even started. We walked past him again, and I think he was slighly coherent. I wanted to take pictures of me doing stupid/obscene things to him, but mom wouldn't let me.
BOYS IN SKIRTS MAKE ME SO HAPPY.
This year the Phish visual design team made "The Back Forty." I was the only one of the group who actually walked over and checked everything out. It was awesome.
The upside-down forest:
The rest:
As I was taking a picture of the barns, a drunk man came up to me and began explaining what happened. Apparently there were three barns, and they were supposed to be spread out upside down, but someone sat on them and crushed them. Then he started telling me that if I would just encourage him, he'd go over and tip them over. For a good two solid minutes I heard, "Come on, I'll do it man, I swear. Just say the word. All you have to do is just tell me to go tip it over and I will. Just egg me on man, come on. Where's your sense of adventure?" I finally just walked away.
This man was yelling to everyone offering help with love. I almost took him up on it.
The band.
The Nudedude Barber Shop. (But no one was nude. Damnit.)
Port-o-pottie on wheels.
I looked at this little girl and thought, wow, to be raised in an environment like this has to be amazing. Then I thought, how will she ever find anything like it now that Phish is done?
The last time.
Trey and Mike brought their moms up on stage and danced with them.
And their manager, John Paluska.
I can't really explain it, but it needs a little more cowbell.
Proof that boys in skirts get all the hot chicks:
A Fishman dress.
The last Phish light show I'll ever see.
Blunt.
Fireworks.
As we left, the crowd was eerily silent. I saw grown men cry, including every member of the band. Wading in the Velvet Sea was extremely sad, because they could barely sing because they were crying. That and when Trey said, "I'd like you to help me say goodbye to someone." and then broke into Wilson, the entire audience was having trouble saying Wilson. When they each did a small speech, every one of them cried, Fishman told all the people that walked in that it was the biggest compliment they could have ever given them, and Trey sobbingly told the audience they needed to blow off some steam, as they broke into Split Open and Melt. It was intense, and extremely emotional.
A lot of people were on Ecstasy, and there was a rave/disco set up with a disco ball and a fog machine. As we walked past this guy just kept screaming, "Man, you gotta get in here! It's AMAZING man. Seriously, everybody get in here!"
We didn't go in.
On Monday morning, we packed our stuff and got in line. We waited in line to get out for 8 hours. I went for a walk and lived out my dream of smoking a joint while walking down the main strip. I walked right past security and waved. Never again will I find that kind of freedom. It was honestly, a fantasy land. I didn't ever want to leave.
It was mind-boggling what people left behind. Tents, tarps, sleeping bags, chairs, tables, clothes, drugs, bottles, glowsticks, boots, anything that got muddy. And everything got muddy.
It was an experience, to put it as lightly as possible. I witnessed amazing things, walked around barefoot for 4 days and managed not to die of infection, met amazing people, got to know Mom, Mike, and Tim much better, but most of all, I discovered a part of myself that I had been missing for a long time. I was finally happy. Absurdly happy. I miss it. I know I'll never find anything like it again, but at least I got to experience what I did. I'm still in awe.