Yesterday I went out for my birthday, for the first time in thirty eight years. This was a test run at not dreading the day, a try at being happy. Given a princely budget of $25, it went about as well as could be expected.
Attention Conservation Notice:
Maudlin old man revisits late Cold War pleasures without crying alone on the train home. You can probably just skip this.
First Cause:
I first saw Phish at a cost of less than $20 with fewer than a thousand other people in the University of Iowa Student Union. They closed with an acapella Amazing Grace that segued into a cover of Highway To Hell. I was hooked.
So when I noticed this I did a double take - a show without about an hour’s travel on my birthday(!) But the tickets that were left were eleven times the cost of that first show. Even so, I decided to go down and check out the lot.
Travel:
These are all over the BART system.
First Waymo I’ve seen in the wild …
Obviously getting close to the right place.
Showtime:
Here we are … I’ve never seen so many nitrous oxide balloons. This is “hippie crack”, it’s a terrible dangerous vice, one I knew to avoid even way back when.
No ticket but I got to talk to my phellow Phishheads, which was great. This guy had t-shirts and other fun stuff.
I told him my sad story about last seeing Phish when I was twenty nine and just turning twice that age, so he gave me a birthday present, a laminated Phish themed UNO card.
Return:
I paused for a photoshoot at a BART station I seldom visit.
Evening Repast:
And upon arriving safely at home, I prepared a birthday feast. Summer sausage, fancy little blueberry cheese, and Fever Tree tonic water. Delicious …
Conclusion:
Simply not hiding under the covers is a big step. The tiny dancer has been dead twice as long as she was alive. I should maybe stop treating my guardian angel like an unquiet ghost …
Happy birthday, Neal!
Many more