September 2nd, 2018 was the final night of Phish’s nearly-annual three-night run at Dick’s Sporting Goods in Denver, Colorado, of which I was in my sophomore season, having been to Dick’s once before.

Incidentally, we have a rule around our house when it comes to discussing this venue. More specifically, I have a rule around our house about it, and to put an even finer point upon it, the rule is particularly for when we are around our house, not in it.

Y’see, when we are at home sitting on our couches, I have no problem discussing with m’lady whether or not we should go to see Phish in their favourite Denver stadium. “Do you wanna do Dick’s?” “Oh, I don’t know. I mean I love Dick’s, but I’m not sure we should do it again.” “Oh come on, you know how much fun Dick’s can be.”

So, when we are within earshot of anyone who is not a rabid Phishhead I insist m’lady refer to the venue as “Denver”.

“Do you wanna do Denver?” “Oh, I don’t know. I mean I love Denver, but I’m not sure we should do it again.” “Oh come on, you know how much fun Denver can be.”

If you look really closely, I think you can see my reasoning.

Anyway, I really like Dick’s (errr…Denver) and this third night was chock-a-block with personal favourite songs. My Friend, My Friend, Tweezer, Maze, Character Zero, it was a great closing night to a great weekend of fun, friends, and music.

Thank ye lords that m’lady and I were unable to find a decent flight back from Denver on the Monday and had to book one for the Tuesday instead, affording us the entire next day to sit around and do absolutely nothing. I actually made a point of pouring myself a couple of drinks and sitting in the lobby right at noon so I could revel in watching a mile of tired souls check out of the hotel and leave for the airport.

I was subtle about it though; I’m not a jerk.

Later that following day an old Canadian friend who had moved to Denver got in touch and dropped by our hotel to say hello, only to announce as he walked through the door that he was probably in the throes of getting divorced from our other friend. Thus proceeded several hours watching him flip between blasé casual conversation and bombastic emotional tirades on our patio while m’lady and I sat by like deer in the headlights, sidelined by the acute cellphone drama that had descended upon us.

Eventually we encouraged him to go home and work things out. He did half of those things.

Great run of shows though. I love…Denver.

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