To glimpse a divine order in the universe, look no further than this truism: if you skip a phish show within driving distance, one that your whole crew is attending (with all the details sorted), and you dip out to make sure you’re at work or some other such responsible bullshit, rest assured: they will punish you. Badly. And they will make it really personal when they do it, too. For all the badges we wear honorably (NYE, Dicks, Halloween, festivals, Gorge), I submit you’re not a real phish fan until you get completely sodomized by your favorite band the night before/after you hop on/off tour, respectively (my personal d’oh list includes 11/23/97, 8/9/98, 8/5/10, and 8/19/12).
Because that, folks, is what happened last night: Multiple jammers in the first set. Tight playing. Great song selection. All in front of me while was packing my bags to drive down to Atlanta tomorrow morning. This was the band. I can’t help but thinking they played More to say “how in the hell are we going to top this tomorrow?” I’m not sure, boys. I’m really not sure. But I’m glad I get to watch.