(Published in the second edition of The Phish Companion...)

My story for this show actually starts two days earlier, on NYE. As with most people, it seemed my friend and I were shut out of the NYE show at the Garden. Not to miss out on seeing a show to ring in the New Year, we decided to check out Govt. Mule at the Beacon Theatre, which by the way was a great show (for proof check out the blistering 2nd set, with Vernon Reid on guitar, in which they blazed through Miles Davis' “Freddy the Freeloader”, but that is another story for another time.)
On the ferry ride into Manhattan, my friend’s phone rings, and it was someone wishing us a happy New Years and, by the way, she may know someone who has two tickets to the first night in Hampton that they me need to get rid of... but they are not sure yet. Every free moment at the Govt. Mule show we spend calling our friend to see what the status of those two tickets is. She is still unsure, she tells us.
The next day we wake to the phone ringing. The guy with the extra tickets still hasn't made up his mind if he is going to be able to make it down to the show. I had to leave to head back home to Baltimore to meet up with some friends. My last words to my friend are to do what it takes to get those tickets.
A couple of hours later, while sitting in traffic on the Jersey turnpike, I get a call from my friend. He is on his way to Connecticut to get our tickets. The guy decided he was not going to go, and if my friend made it up to Connecticut that night we could have the tickets. Right before midnight my phone rings again. "One man gathers what another man spills" is all I hear from the other end. Two free tickets to the first night at the "Mothership". My friend leaves from Connecticut early the day of the show and drives down to Baltimore to pick me up and head on down to Hampton.
Less than forty eight hours ago we had nothing and now we are heading down to the first night of the Hampton run. Having never been there, I was bouncing off the walls the entire car ride.
The first time seeing the lights is an experience not soon forgotten, and one truly can see how Hampton Coliseum obtained the nickname "The Mothership". With its colored lights that surround the outside of the building lighting up the night sky, it sends its beams of light skyward, like a twisted "Bat Signal" for Phish fans.
The lot scene was pretty good despite the freezing temperatures. Everyone seemed to be in a very festive mood. I am sure the holiday season and the boys being back at Hampton had much to do with it. While cruising around I saw Mike chatting up some fans, and Fish was later seen checking out the lobby scene inside the venue.
A strong "Bathtub Gin" got things started off, and we do love to take a bath. While this was not the strongest show that Phish has ever played, is still always great to see the boys live. It bothers me when people want to deconstruct every show, setlist, and song to the point where they feel that there is never ever a good show. It always seems to some that it was better when...
Just as with everything in life, there are highs and lows. Sometimes Phish has a night of highs, sometimes they have a night of lows, and sometimes they have a night of both, but I keep in mind that a night of Phish lows is still better than any other band out there. To me there is no such thing as a bad Phish show, there are shows that are not as good as others, but their bad moments can still be pretty intense.
This night at Hampton was a night of highs and lows. There were some flubbed verses, a mixed change or two, "Character Zero" repeated from NYE. There were also some highs as well: the "My Friend, My Friend" in the second set, Fish's dance during "It's Ice", "46 Days" (this has great potential), and the "Antelope", which definitely got up and ran out of control at times.
The best thing about the Hampton show was that The Boys Were Back, back onstage doing what they do best, and what we like most. They took some chances; some worked and some did some did not. It gave me a chance to see some old friends, meet some new ones, hear some great music, and provide 10,000 people with great way to spend an evening.

(Published in the second edition of The Phish Companion...)

My husband and I left Harrisburg by train for NYC December 30, with high hopes of scoring tickets for MSG on New Year's Eve. We wandered around the Garden for hours hoping for a "miracle on 34th Street"�, but it was not to be. During the first set, I remember gazing up at the higher levels of the Garden thick with steam, the windows dripping with condensation. I was certain the energy circulating in that building was going to blow through the roof. Fans standing at the middle level waved down to us as we circled the Garden with envy, wishing ourselves inside. So close. We had made it so far but not far enough. We reveled in the fact that we had tickets to all three nights of Hampton, and focused on the days ahead.
After hearing of a terrorist threat on New York Harbor New Year's Eve and not being able to shake the feeling of having to watch our backs, we left on the first train out of New York in the early morning hours of New Year's Day and headed back to Harrisburg for a day with my parents. The morning of January 2, 2003 we packed our new car - œ a 1992 Buick LeSabre just given to us by my parents - œ and headed to Hampton, VA, full of gear, lots of love, and pounds of my Mom's incredible penne and meatballs.
Five hours later we arrived at the Arrow Inn in Hampton with a "Welcome Phish Fans"� sign on the motel marquee. The adventure ensued.
After not seeing the boys in more than two years, the first night blew away my illusory imaginings of what it would be like to finally get "back on the train."� Indeed, it stoked our fire for Phish and we finally understood why the Mothership is their favorite room to play. The "Chalk Dust"� opener would later prove to be an omen for us.
The following day we cruised to Virginia Beach and enjoyed the humid, salty air and the somber, gray sky that always dominates East Coast winters. Brian and I strolled along the beach and I encountered a mound of foam the Atlantic had spewed forth. And as always, observing cues that the universe provides me, I said to Brian, "We're gonna hear `Foam' tonight."�
Remember, how I said "Chalk Dust"� was an omen for us? Well, after a search with the Colorado DMV in which we supplied a fifty item-long list of seven character Phishy names that could be used as a personalized plate, we finally discovered that "CHLKDST"� was available. And after "Reba"�'s christening as our new Phish Tour-mobile, "Contact"� took on a completely new meaning for us.