The way I think back to Coventry is that it is the place that Phish chose to die.

I was lucky enough to be able to attend the last five shows that summer with my wife, although we were only engaged at that point in time and childless. We spent the two Great Woods shows with a group of friends that planned on skipping Camden so they could head north to pick up an RV. They wanted to get into Coventry early so they could get an ideal spot. Thank God for them!

My wife and I drove down to Camden and had a great time with other friends on the back of the lawn. I remember at the end of the show during Frankenstein, Trey announced that there was pouring rain at Coventry and that everyone should wait to leave. I immediately turned to my wife and said, "F*ck that! We are leaving right now!"

I drove all night from south Jersey to Vermont and made it to the line on 91 before 11 AM. I don't remember exactly how long we waited, but it was not nearly as long as some of the other poor heads. I remember the sun was still up in the early evening when I parked in a mud patch inside. We left my car and found our friends in the RV section. They were parked on solid ground and had a sweet setup. To this day, I appreciate their sacrifice of skipping Camden. We slept comfortably with dry clothes and with a great crew of people.

There are vivid moments that stand out to me from Coventry, such as trying to find other clusters of friends without the use of my cell phone, traversing seas of mud, spending the first set of 8/15 up front with one of my best friends, and eating tons of loaded baked potatoes from the potato vender. However, no memory stands out to me more than witnessing the final set. I had to leave my wife and crew during Slave so I could cry to myself alone in a group of strangers. I can't listen to The Curtain With without getting weepy, even ten years later.

As soon as the show was over, I had to put my emotions aside and be on the move. I had somehow convinced myself that I would be able to get to work in Philadelphia the next day. My wife and I quickly said our goodbyes, grabbed our stuff, and trekked back to my car. My back wheel was completely stuck in mud, and if it wasn't for the help of strangers with a piece of plywood, I might still be there. My back tire sprayed them with mud as I pulled out. I sincerely apologized and they just laughed it off. Phish people are the best.

On our drive back we picked up two ruffian hitch hikers that needed to get over the Massachusetts border. Somehow, they stayed in my car until I booted them in Hartford around 7 AM. I spent all day driving to Lansdale, Pennsylvania where we lived at that point, quickly took a shower, put on a suit, and drove to Philly. I was only six hours late for work. When my boss asked me where I was, I told him "Hell and back" and left it at that.

In the moment, I was appreciative that I was able to be there for the final moments of my favorite band, but there was obviously a huge emotional void to fill.

Although I couldn't get tickets to the triumphant Hampton return in March of 2009, I remember setting up the gear for my own bands' show on 3/6/2009 in Bethlehem, PA and thinking to myself, "As long as Phish is playing somewhere in the world, all is right with the universe." Today I have three children that have been to a combined total of 44 Phish shows and can recite the words to some of their favorite songs. Phish is back, as good as ever arguably, and spinning a whole new generation of phans on their collective heads.

@Icculus, thank you for a great article.

And most importantly, I thank Phish for allowing themselves to heal so they could bring us to this point in history. There are more momentous jams on the horizon and life in the Phish universe is as glorious as ever.