On July 2nd, 2011 I woke up in the temporary upper New York state campground that was the Watkins Glen Speedway and emerged from my tent ready to start the day. At least I assume so. It’s not like I actually remember waking up on that day over a decade ago. I do, however, remember my situation, and it was this: m’lady and I and our great friends Kyla and Jay and Chris and Jennie were parked on a small piece of grassy real estate in a vast field just out of view of one of the farther reaches of the extended non-oval auto racing track. We were camped in a trio of tents straddling my Mitsubishi Outback a fair stroll away from the main concert pitch, where Phish had played the night before to kick off Superball IX*, their ninth self-styled festival and their first of almost three solo Phish fests** at the Watkins Glen NASCAR track.

If I remember correctly m’lady and I spent a fair chunk of the morning waiting in line for posters and a couple of records and we spent the bulk of the afternoon getting out-and-about, visiting friends in the RV section and perhaps making a point to watch a wee bit of the Runaway Jim 5K footrace. In between meeting new friends and visiting old ones the remaining daylight hours would have been taken up revelling in the inevitable art installations, eating m’lady’s campstove quesadillas, and making sure the beer stayed cold.

However, I do recall the evening’s musical sets with unexpected clarity; all four of them.

Halfway through the first set the band played When the Circus Comes to Town, a song written by Los Lobos. Phish played the song quite often – at least they used to – and though I’ve never actually heard the original version I’ve never really liked the tune. So much so that I really couldn’t imagine why Phish even played it in the first place aside from the imagery in the title, which is very tour-ish. But somehow, some way this version was pretty great, and it bode great things.

The second set started off with Runaway Jim and included Trey awarding ribbons to the winners of the 5K run. Later in the set the band did it again: They went into Birds of a Feather, another of my lesser-favourite Phish songs (this one is actually written by Phish) and once again they played it so well that I was forced to reconsider my opinion of the song. Didn’t hurt that they went into Stash straight after, which might very well have been the first time I saw the band play Stash since I had learned how to play it myself. I’d spent several hours figuring out the slithery guitar parts and even longer getting it together (I even learned the lyrics) so I had a whole new appreciation for the song, and then I got to experience it live. I played along in my head.

Set three (yes…set three!) was just killer all around. Piper, Tweezer, Julius, Backwards Down the Number Line, 2001, Hood, Golgi, A Day in the Life…my word!

But get this: the very best was yet to come! Without fail, Phish festivals always include a secret set on the Saturday night, and also without fail I find these droning, improvised, instrumental jams unendingly entertaining. To say the secret sets are consistently my favourite live Phish is as accurate as saying that Space is my favourite part of every Dead show. Which it is…err…they are, especially (or perhaps: only) when I am standing there in person.

In this case the secret set took place inside a mock storage shed that was near the back of the concert field. Sometime in the early wee hours of Sunday morning lights, dry ice, and ethereal music started bleeding out of the storage unit, which I and thousands of my friends immediately encircled. Inside and out of sight the band grooved and jived, forsaking songs for sounds. It was exactly like the late night jam at The Great Went, or the drive-in theatre jam at Magnaball, or even the tower jam at Coventry, and totally unlike any Phish you’ve ever heard. I loved it. I loved everything.

This being a camping music festival, the end of the music was just the beginning. I can’t possibly tell you what went on next***, but I assure you it went pretty late.

*Why do you suppose we still sometimes use Roman numerals? Is it purely due to style? Don’t get me wrong, for reasons that I can’t at all understand I quite like it when Roman numerals come up, but in all honesty I can’t think of a practical reason why they should. They make even the most basic math rather confusing (XLVIII ÷ IV = XII or X x V = L or even X x X = C) and take a lot of time to decipher (MCDXCII being the famous year that Columbus went poking around Central America).

Is it really possible that society as a whole can still figure out this obviously outdated system (with the exception of D. Why is it hardly anyone knows that D is 500?) solely because “Rocky IV” looks cooler than “Rocky 4” (a turd by any other name…)? Really?!? I tell you, if Roman numerals are mostly still in use mainly for movie trilogies and eye-catching advertising graphics then I think they are all-too often under-utilized. Take for example Superbowl 40…err…Superbowl XL. Not one ad used the phrase “Extra Large”. Where were the Dominoes ad people? And of course the entire porn industry should always be aiming towards their 29th sequel.

**When I say “almost three” I am of course making reference to the summer of 2018 when a Phish festival scheduled at the Watkins Glen racetrack was aborted at the 11th hour due to a county-wide boil-water advisory. It would have been their third fest at Watkins Glen but the whole shebang got shut down before the band could play a single note. Though not before m’lady and I had showed up and giddily pitched our tents in the VIP section. We had been onsite for a solid twenty-four hours before the festival got cancelled. That non-fest had the most appropriate name of all of ‘em though. It was called Curveball.

***Stunted memory or unexpired statute of limitations? You decide.

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