It overwhelms with smells, sights and sounds, like the dirtiest, gnarliest flea market I’ve ever seen.
Here, flying solo at this Phish show, I will confront the very personality traits that have probably led me to attending a Phish show by myself.
I come from an extended lineage of expert side-eye cutters, and I put their matriarchal gifts to use on a regular basis. You shove your way to the front just to talk over the band? As for the noodling—well, jerking off should be limited to private settings, with consenting partner(s) optional (the partners, not the consent).
So, you’re a hula-hooping white person with dreadlocks? My hatred becomes amplified if it’s a white dude with an electric guitar.
Unfortunately, not everyone had a fun time with their substance of choice: Police busted a whopping 65 people at the show, shooting proverbial Phisheads in a barrel before publishing each evildoer's name, age, hometown and charge in a press release.
But I don't get arrested, so I stand there, taking in all of the everything, I am, no joke, enjoying myself.