Recently I attended a Phish concert with Hubby and some friends. Hubby is, well, I'm just gonna say it...he's a full blown band dork. (Maybe he'll miss this post.) He reads message boards, awaits the set list to every show, and has spent numerous conversations with phellow phans about Trey's sobriety and whale calls.
The music was a little more rockin' than expected, which was a nice surprise since Phish tends to slow it down and jam too long for my taste. They played a mean Sloth and Tweezer Reprise (see, the dorkiness is contagious) but my favorite part of the trip was hanging with our buddies and watching hippies.
Spending six hours (12 round trip) on the way to MD with some of our favorite people reminded me why friends are important. I don't remember the last time I went on a similar road trip. We laughed, took bad exits, ate homemade cookies and laughed some more.
Being amongst all that love and peace reminded me of Woodstock. Just kidding, I wasn't around for that but it did remind me of college and discovering Widespread Panic. One hippy politely turned down a bottled water because it wasn't "spring H2O." It was 90 degrees and this man's hair alone could have smothered three bystanders. He was hot and thirsty but couldn't enjoy tap water. Several times throughout the show I suppressed the urge to ask the "not so security" their thoughts on noodle dancing and glow sticks.
Besides needing a nap or coffee instead of that margarita at set break this excursion was a great time. I also gained a few bits of wisdom. Number one, it is o.k. for Phish to be Hubby's obsession and not mine. I can appreciate our differences...I mean, he probably couldn't grasp the magnitude of Edward Cullen, right? Number two, I am no longer in my 20s...maybe in spirit, but definitely not in body nor mind. And most importantly, number three, Fun Gus is not some one's favorite uncle.
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