Phish Tales PART 1

This will be my first post here on Gadiels Blog. First off, let me say thank you to all that have made this blog possible, and the contributors.

For the next few weeks, I will be posting a fictional account of a man named Troy and his 2000 Phish tour.

May our lost city lots be rebuilt in a Phish brought back from the ashes of the Phish that destroyed itself... much like the famed ancient city of Troy.

Happy trails Phans!!!

www.brookstree.org....

and now... PHISH TALES PART ONE:

"Just when the lot began to soar,
With Philly behind us and a case in the car;
We knew it wouldn’t be too far,
We were there to unwind;
To meet people and to be kine’…”

Troy looked around at his surroundings. This was it, though Philly lay just over the bridge here was home. The parking lot was desolate, but somehow clean of all of the bottles and other assorted trash which had littered just twelve hours ago.
Across the Delaware River, Philadelphia skyline was hazy in clouds of the midday humidity. Troy remembered the night before sitting in half lotus position, which was as far as he could stretch meditating to the incredible fireworks. There would be bang and boom with lights over the river again tonight. He wondered if tickets were to be found amongst his second show. No matter, the main concern now was to find the necessary ice to fill his cooler with the ten bucks he had left over.
There were several parking lots in Camden, which would soon be filled with concertgoers and Fourth of July tailgating. With Phish lot, though it was a whole different story. The band toured almost nonstop, and had a following that would be compared to the Grateful Deads own if not for the fact that they were the same people. The night before Troy had found that people were more willing to be touring with both Phish and Further tours to bridge the gaps in the map. That is, there were miles to be traveled and rest to be taken, food to be eaten and this required money. The band in fact had a whole village of gypsy type travelers who toured nonstop with them performing various tasks from stage hands to selling t – shirts.
In just a few hours the parking lot would be full of the “tour heads” setting up for the night’s business. Of course the business had its benefits, as shows are fun. The main lot it seemed for most of the touring people was set up in the far lot along the river.
A few of the canvas tents to cover the corner stores on lot were already being set up. There were a few restaurant tents, a few vendors, and then what could only be known as “Shakedown”. The term came from the Grateful Deads song “Shakedown Street” and it was like going downtown to the central heart of the lot. Picture an alley the length of a city block where every two feet another small congregation of people gathered selling different things. A marketplace of sights smells and sounds. Bands would come and set up to play in the lot where it was not filled with DJ style music setup. There was water, pita wraps, grills with every type of campground food, tie dyes, and of course other goods not so legal. Drugs could be found on lot, and it was not a disorganized system by which they were sold. One of the kids within a group would carry around a box blaring music to announce where the central spot of dealing would be. This was based on the dozens of heads wandering with digital devices to talk back and forth in code phrases. A key phrase in lot terminology was someone yelling “six up!” meaning that security or a cop was coming, time to six up for five – oh and hide the goods. It was heard so often on lot, there were t – shirts made that had a seven up can with “six up” written on it. Beer was generally found in the backs of trucks but also most times right on the storefronts of Shakedown.
Nitrous oxide was common occurrence as well, though in recent years the lots have been more heavily policed of this damaging substance. Tanks of “laughing gas” were here and there though, usually driven to be on a lot away from the shakedown heads who would not tolerate it. The hippy crack was sold off in five dollar balloons that could be heard whooshing to full and sometimes popping all over the lot. When inhaled the gas makes the user completely numb, and often lose consciousness.
Cars, trucks, and buses, planes trains and automobiles, and in this case the Camden Ferry were bringing the one day or only partial tour concertgoers to the lot by the thousands.
Troy set off toward the parking lots further inland to try and ascertain where he could find ice. A small congregation of cars was gathered together in the mid lot near where Mark had parked, and one of the girls sitting next to a Honda leapt to her feet.
“Hey there! Wanna try some oils?! Great stuff!” she said flirtatiously.
“Yeah, sure,” he responded a little on the shy side.
“Where ya headed?” the girl leaned over an orange – red Mandelbrot set looking tapestry spread out on the ground filled with small clear liquid vials of different scents. Some of the bottles were clear liquids, others brownish to black. He wondered if any contained liquid LSD.
Troy’s head was spinning as though he had lost his equilibrium. It had seemed to him that since the night before he had learned to simply act and react on his best judgment with no hesitation so as to follow the course of his time wisely. Life here was one big free contact high. Here he saw an obvious opportunity to chill and make headway with what he gauged were weekender show goers. Good to know, but it was time to make some money lest he lose tour on the second date.
“Yeah, sorry no oil thanks, flat broke. Do you know where I can get some ice around here?”
She jutted out her hand then and proceeded to introduce herself “Jill.”
“Troy, yeah, I need to sell some, uh...water.”
Jill swayed from the touch of his hand as if swooning. The flirtatious look in her eye told him that she was truly also trying to make a sale. He must look a wreck from sleeping his clothes, and not having eaten since the night before.
“Yeah, try over past that lot your headed for, there is a grocery store a few blocks from there. Be careful, lots of security over there. “
“Thanks. Right on!”
“Come back for some oils afterward, there really good!” she sang back persuasively as he moved toward the far lot she had directed him towards.
The next lot was indeed full of blue jacketed security guards in golf carts. They seemed to be apprehending a mans bubbler glass pipe Troy saw a few feet further on down the row from which he walked. Bubblers are a more expensive variety of glass pipes that hold water and are used to smoke marijuana. As with most pipes, they change color as they become more resonated. The better the weed, the better the color came in from the glassblowing art. This pipe looked dark green and orange.
“Shame, Troy thought “the guard will probably be smoking it in an hour!”
The three o’clock sun felt more like a midday blaze now, and he was glad he had only worn his long green Quicksilver trunks. One of the security guards was ahead passing through a horizontal row of cars Troy was passing through. He eyed Troy with suspicion, his eyes not at all shamed at staring him down. Boy, Camden was a rough spot. Suddenly a girl with shoulder length dreadlocks tied back flanked him on his right. She acted as if she had known him, actually like he was a close personal friend though he had never seen her before in his life.
“Hey, what’s up kid?”
“Uh nothing! How bout you sister?”
“Sister, huh.” She said with a disgusted look knocking down what she took to be some kind of rejection.
“Did you find your kids yet?”
Suddenly he was aware of just how tight knit the community in which he was living would be. She did know who he was; obviously word had already spread via Mark.
“No, I haven’t even met them yet.” He replied trying to keep the excitement and heartfelt wonder of it all from making him sound lame again.
“Sure you have, you’ve got me!” she said trying not to be mocking as well as taking the opportunity to hug his shoulders with her left arm.
She was not at all unattractive, and Troy was suddenly brought to life from the dull existence he was accustomed to. Why hadn’t he done this much earlier in life?
“Why didn’t I do this much earlier?!” he said aloud.
“Oh, come on the store is only a few blocks from here, I’ll go with you I need to buy some baggies anyway.”
How in hell did she know so much about him? Troy was also learning how well the Phamily functioned.
“Huh?!”
“Don’t you need ice?”
She figured by now that she had probably spooked him enough and decided to give him a friendly wink, finally confessing “Mark told me I’d see you around HOPEFULLY with Carey and Jim. Said he might need you to pay for gas and you needed ice.”
“Oh, yeah.” He said dully, not even thinking of one thing to say.
“Oh yeah.” She mocked him teasingly.
The sunlit up her tan figure as she squinted and marched forward faster toward the far west corner of the lot. The wind blew, and Troy caught a whiff of her scent, evidently shower had not been in her itinerary since the night prior.
“Camdens a tough place” he began, quoting Mark from the night prior “I hope they are ok. I heard they got mugged.”
She agreed, shaking her head to the affirmative. Sweat began to bead down Troy’s forehead and he wiped it off with the back of his hand, which did not do any good as it was equally as sweaty. He wondered he if he himself smelled and resolve to use a restaurant bathroom if he found one. Once again his thought turned to the question of getting a ticket.
“Yeah, Camden sucks. No motels, no campgrounds, lots of fucking pigs.” She darted in front of him grabbing his hand and urging him faster “Speaking of which there’s the fucking one who fucking flirted with me last night, let’s go!”
He wanted ask if she had tickets, but he did not feel it was time. First there was money to be made. He was jogging now, and the heat was really getting to him and he slowed breaking her hand to hand grip.
The Camden street they entered reminded him of the desolation row he had walked through the night prior on the way into town. The sidewalk was broken up, and lined with trash that heaped overflowing from corner wastebaskets. A whole sunday newspaper could probably be collected from the block they were on alone. The grocery store was a small corner store across from a bank. The girl led him across the street and told him to wait, that she had to “tap MAC”. Troy felt primitive and broke not having any more than ten bucks let alone a bank card to draw it from. These tour people were far from behind the times.
“Wait here.”
Troy waited, leaning on the one way mirror of glass that made up the banks exterior. Several minutes later the girl, whose name he still did not know emerged with a scowl on her face.
“Fucking banks,” She said as she walked with him towards the store “thanks for waiting.”
“No problem. Hey, what’s your name?”
Troy extended a hand toward her as if to handshake. She pushed it down, and said in a mocking glare “sister.”
Must prefer hugs, he blushed to himself. Damn this was going to be a good life. She continued to scowl, and he wondered if he had seriously offended her.
They got the items they needed from the small store, and walked back to the lot where they had met. There was little more small talk, and he began to have the feeling that he owed her an apology, or that she was questioning if he really was one of them. You had to be one to be one seemed to be the Phamily way, and he imagined doubting himself was the first way enroute to a disappointing conclusion. What a wonderful Zen existence. Also proof that he needed to lose the intellectual and gain some “Be Here Now” ness.
Halfway through the lot while passing a group of guys and one girl with hoodies and patchwork pants, dreadlocks and a passing bowl, one of the guys snagged her. They hugged as a long lost couple who had been reunited. He then began to deep throat her for long enough that Troy decided he was now being ignored as if nonexistent. What a Zen existence. He shrugged and walked on. Ten seconds and twenty five feet later, he turned as he heard her yell “LATER TROY!!”
A shiver went down his spine as he heard his new name for the first time. It was hope. He had found somewhere where they didn’t care who he was, or where he came from, only that he was and that was enough for some Phun and love.
The ice was heavy and cold as he shifted it to various ways of carrying. He hoped it would be enough, as it had been expensive and he was now out of cash. Returning to the lot on which Marks van was parked, he saw that it had been moved closer to where shakedown was going to be. There was a group of people around the back, and the doors on all sides were open. He had found the others. Their words came into range as he approached from the left rear. There was smoke rising from the side, and Troy realized someone was cooking.
“Yeah, we had to convince the guy to let us park free. The kid was like yeah, were broke and all. It was kind of dumb.” Marks voice wavered as he saw Troy.
“There he is, HEY! You got the ice.” Mark dropped the burger he was attending back on the grill and came over with his arms spread out to give him a hug. Troy gratefully accepted his first hug. That would take care of missing out on the other lot orgy he had just left.
“Troy, right? “ Mark began introductions.
A skinny boy of about eighteen wearing chain mail and spikes with a leather jacket and jeans on immediately gave him a warm hug cutting in on Mark “Star” he said with a sparkle in his eye.
Troy felt one spun again, that dizzy highness he had been experiencing from the night before. This kid didn’t look the type, so who was he not to fit in with this punk on board?
“Wow, am I high.” Troy simply stated referring to his contact high.
Star looked at him with that same sparkling “figure me out” face he had made a moment ago and said with withheld glee “Good. We just got smoked too.”
Troy was instantly glad he had not gotten smoke as it seemed for the last few years pot had made him paranoid. Now he wondered if he would be able to turn down turning on. Perhaps he just needed to lighten up, wind out a little. Was it possible he had been making himself paranoid by those with which he surrounded himself? Absolutely.
From the front of the van with a completely cold glaring look a beautiful dirty blonde dreadlocked girl shot him a hello “I’m Carey.” She said, then turning to Mark back at work on his burger. “Five kids is way too fucking many.”
She threw her knapsack back into the van while clutching a yellow hooded sweatshirt with a red dot on its front.
“This fucking van smells.”
At first impression she was abrasive. A tough girl. At least she’s honest, Troy thought with a glimmer of hope as Mark smiled at him, shrugging. The other kid Troy notice at the front of the van seemed to drift off in thought, and simply turned away without an attempted introduction. Trotting behind him on a leash was a beautiful black collie mix.
“That’s Onyx.” Mark said with half a mouth full so it came out “Ats Omix…” then adding after a swallow “The dog not the kid.”
He laughed. They were both his “dogs”.
So did Troy, recognizing his eye on at Carey. They must be some kind of couple and were having a spat over the previous night. Troy guessed they needed the money he could give.
Mark pointed his finger past the porta grill further into the vans interior at the cooler and water.
“Betta pwut at ice in da coower…” he said with the last of the char black burger shoved in his mouth. Troy realized his own hunger and Mark seemed to read his mind.
“Have you eaten?”
“No.” Troy shot back quickly, assuming Mark was going to offer him food. But he didn’t.
“I have to sell this stuff, go buy something on shakedown. Better sell that water. Oh, yeah and we will take you to Pittsburgh at least, right Star?”
“Right the fuck on man” Star returned grinning at Troy. Troy guessed there were more hostilities among the crowded van group and that they welcomed a new guy to break it up.
Troy turned for the first time to Carey.
“Are you ok? I heard you guys got mugged?”
She glanced at him as if to accuse him of hitting on her, and he recognized the hint of truth in her gaze through him. It was that look that a taken woman tempted would give in correcting her status with a new guy. “Fine.” She replied and walked away toward the now half filled and busy shakedown with grills and Phish lot delicacies.
“I hope I have enough ice, man. I’m not sure.” Troy said downtrodden as he pulled the Styrofoam cooler from its lodged state in the van with the cases of water.
“Just go down shakedown asking for ice from different people. They’ll give a hand, or at least a handful. Don’t worry man, people help.” Mark replied as he tore out sheets of aluminum foil to wrap his food individually for sale.
His words echoed in Troy’s mind “people help” not “people will help.” As everything else here seemed it was a different breed of humans here, Phamily were not strangers any one. The light in Troy’s spirit began to glow again with hope spreading from this faith based family of people he had found. How was it a parking lot could feel so much more like home than any other he had ever had?
“Great!” he responded finally with a bit more enthusiasm in his voice.
This was not a journey to be taken without faith. This was a journey of enlarging his spiritual growth, of identifying with others who took for granted believing the things he had for years loved to bathe himself in. Part of him wanted to see it as west coast culture, but they were all here right now in the east.
Troy carefully packed the ice around the water bottles in the cooler. He would have to refill the cooler a few times. While he was packing the cooler, a kid dressed in khakis and a white Phish original logo t – shirt stopped by.
“Hey man, you selling that water, I’m parched!”
“Mark shot him a smile and answered for Troy “Yeah!”
The kid immediately brought forth a knot of bills and asked “How much? Two?”
He peeled off two bills and thrust them forward toward Troy. He had been intending to sell them for a buck apiece, but why refuse? Beside which Mark piped right in with another answer “Yeah, two. And we’ve got burgers too if you want!” The voice of experience.
“Wow, those look good. “ He took the water from Troy, who gave an apology “I just popped em in the cooler, so they are a little warm...”
Cracking it open and taking a swig the kid replied. ”That’s fine. I’ll pass on the food, though it looks great! Have a good show!”
“Have a good show!!” Mark and Troy piped in together as their first customer walked away from the van.
Troy smiled to himself and grimacing picked up the full cooler to walk it onto a spot he had reserved on shakedown. It was about fifty pounds, and he looked forward to being off work already. It was time to take charge of his self run business. His first profits had been to the tune of a thousand percent profit. Turning on to shakedown he quickly scouted a spot about half way down the length of the marketplace where no one had parked their goods. He heaved the packed cooler across the walkway beginning to become spotted with potential customers and finally put the cooler to rest. The man he was setting up across from was a smiling Jamaican who immediately smiled at his plight and spoke across the walkway “Hey, you made it! Ha ha!”
The girl standing next to him bowed her head a little, continuing to fold a “rag” or imported prayer rug to display on their six foot long table. The table was an array of price signs taped to the front. She also turned for a brief smile and nod saying “hello”.
We were neighbors, and respectably would not be in any competition. His shop had no food or drink to speak of, and Troy realized another key to his involvement in the community. Respecting other businesses and working together to increase everyone’s profitability was a must.
The man next to him seemed to just be enjoying the sun on a lawn chair. He tall and thin with a muscular frame. Both he and his girlfriend seated next to him had long blonde hair. He reached a hand out to introduce himself.
“Jim, man, and this is Linda.”
“Hi Jim, hi Linda. Want some water? Free water for my neighbors!”
“No thanks,” he replied quickly revealing the beer he held on the side of his lawn chair just out of sight “we’ve got beer. But whoa fee, man.”
“Yeah right.”
“I’ll take a water, what kind are they?” Linda spoke up.
“American Pride I think.”
He handed over semi chilled water to Jim, who passed it on to her. She cracked it open and took a swig.
“S’warm. I’d wait a little before selling it. I hope you haven’t been selling warm water!”
What a bitch, Troy thought to himself.
“Nah, just one and that one I gave you. He didn’t care”
“I hope not, you know you affect everyone’s business when you sell bad goods!”
This was insanity. If he had set up shop I downtown Manhattan he wouldn’t have received this much community consciousness. Of course he would need a license if he set up downtown anywhere. He decided to ignore her quip and yelled his pitch for the first time.
“Water, get your water here! Thirsty?”
Over the course of the next few hours the lot went from a laid back scene of straggling wanderers to an elbow room only buzz of activity. Troy sold the bottles of water for a dollar apiece. Several times people offered him more, and he realized if he was inconsistent on his price someone would figure it out and he would hurt business. Overcharge one to make profit, and lose them all. He tried different pitches as the show grew nearer.
“Ice cold water!”
“Water here, what the fuck it’s only a buck!”
By around six thirty he had sold forty five of the waters. The rest had been drank by he, Mark, Carey, and his neighbor in da’ hood Linda. He had run out of ice around five thirty, but had used it as an opportunity to meet other people and had gone around collecting a handful here, a handful there from others as Mark had suggested. They were all so friendly, smiles and nods, no one told him no.. and some even offered him smoke or a beer. It was half an hour to show time and he had doubled his money from the night before. He desperately wanted to get into the show, but was as yet lacking the funds to do so. There would be more shows. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he would find a way. He had heard of getting miracle tickets from a buddy he had met in Ocean City New Jersey. Pat had been an old dead head who had toured for several years. He said miracle tickets were free tickets that you got on lot to see the show. Troy walked around with a finger over his head as he saw others doing, indicating that he needed “one ticket”. His heart was not in it. He was ashamed to take a handout in the form of a concert ticket. Deeper in him the knowledge as to why the ticket was a necessity to his betterment shifted toward understanding.
Troy had yet to understand his status, to see himself with a ticket stub in his hand. He was depressed from the loony bin, but hadn’t Phish told him his dark side Floyd was Dead, nothing but a Ripple? This was the story of realizing ghostly green paper was not the aim. He was trying to live a life, and that was completely free. One spirit in still water like his soul he had seen vibing outward affected by the wavelengths of others. There need be no proof he was not crazy. If these thousand gathered under the same premise to surrender to the flow, if this band was the largest grossing tour band in the world, didn’t that outweigh the skeptics who had locked him down? He had been surrounding himself with the wrong crowd, but now he was here. Why weigh on a sunny day?
Fourth of July fireworks lit up the night and he stood watching them in awe. The end of the night came, and he began to watch making sure Mark had not left without him. At eleven forty five when the crowd streamed forth from the arena, he saw a familiar face. It was a guy he had hung out with throughout his entire senior year. He and his girlfriend and her best friend had gone to this guy’s house every night to smoke pot. In fact after graduation when his parents had kicked him out, he had stayed with Bill on his couch temporarily. That was until he came home to find Bills house burned down one night.
“Hey! Bill!”
“Yo, Troy! What are you doing here?”
For a minute it seemed as though he was between worlds. It already felt as though Troy had taken on a from of his own, and he felt as though he stood in limbo within the tribe. Then a warm glow filled him and he began to realize that this was to be a healing including his former life, which it would merge with the new where the friendly good book would see it fit to do so.
“I’m on tour, man. Have you seen Angel at all?”
Angel was Bills old girlfriend from High School days. She had gone on to Penn State.
“Nah.”
“How was your show?”
“Good. They were, well not as good as the Dead, but...”
Some kids coming from the arena on the path by the Delaware lit up with hoots and yells. Troy, annoyed by Bills comment lit up with them “Wooohooo!” he shouted.
Bill began to say something, but he was too busy cheering to hear “Yee! Yiyiyiyiyiyi YEEE!” the Independence Day war cry escaped his throat.
The words of the Dead came to his mind. “Leaving Texas, Fourth day of July. Sun so hot, the clouds so low, the eagles filled the sky…” Kind of symbolic in every way.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Mark strolling across the vacating shakedown toward the van. People were leaving faster this night than the last.
“Hey, Bill man good to see you, I gotta run!” He gave Bill a quick hug and hurried off toward the van. Arriving at the van, he found Mark looking rather stoned and weary eyed, though with a warm glow of peace about him.
“So glad we are leaving Camden” he said to the arriving Troy.
“Have you seen the others?”
From nowhere Carey, Jim, and Star lagging behind looking rather drunk came bounding onto the scene. Onyx was lagging behind Jim, dragging his leash behind him. Carey opened her waist pouch to reveal something to Mark in private and he grinned. She turned to Troy with a grin and pulled a light green nugget of kine bud part way out of the bag and smiled.
“Got a bowl?” Star asked.
Carey shot him a dirty look that said he was too drunk to require response. Mark answered instead “We’ll have to hot potato.” Then nodding toward the security guard passing them on his way towards a group of kids holding giant nitrous balloons said “Get in, lets go now.”
“Fucking preps,” Carey said climbing into the passenger seat of the VW van.
The van was indeed crowded. Mark drove, Carey was in the passenger seat, while Star and Troy in the back tried to make space away from Jim and Onyx who were in and on the one back seat that remained in the bus. Everyone but Mark were soon fast asleep, and Troy decided it would not be a bad idea.