On August 2nd, 2023 I was still in New York City.

I had been in the Big Apple for nigh on a week, seeing Phish and homeless people and Broadway and friends and the High Line and lines to get high* and so much more that by this last full day in the city I had pretty much seen it all.

Or so I thought.

Now, was this the day that m’lady and I walked the length of the wonderfully restored, revamped, and repurposed elevated train track called the High Line? No matter, the High Line is awesome and makes me almost want to live in New York City. The raised walkway rife with gardens is exactly what I dream will be the future of concrete jungles worldwide, and it made for a spectacular hour-long stroll. I was insanely jealous of the new and obviously wonderful condos that backed onto the High Line at every turn. Oh, how I swooned.

However, it was only after we had descended back down to terra-very-firma and walked our way through Greenwich Village that I had finally seen all there was to see in NYC, when I stopped to tie my shoe and found myself unknowingly leaning against Electric Ladyland Studios.

Gasp.

I was inadvertently tying my shoe on the threshold of the studio that Jimi had built. Hendrix had no doubt leaned against the very same doorjamb to tie his lizard skin cowboy boots. Gasp. The rest of the day is a smear of insignificance.

Well okay, I guess I can still pick out a few details of the Phish concert that is the ostensive target of this paragraph-dump. This was my fifth and final show of Phish’s seven-night no-repeat residency at Madison Square Garden, and if that sounds unlikely it ‘tweren’t nothin’ compared to their 2017 Bakers Dozen MSG run (when they played thirteen full shows without repeating a song) of which I also attended five. Anywho, we had been seated in wholly different sections every night for this run, and for this one we were in a suite of sorts called the Madison Club.

I had been in the Madison Club once before (during that Baker’s Dozen run) and I really, really dig it. First of all it’s behind the stage, which is generally quite awesome (okay, not if you’re only going to see Phish once or twice in your lifetime, but if you go see them, oh I don’t know, maybe 137 times or more then occasionally sitting behind the stage is quite awesome). Not only do you get a birds-eye view of Fishman (which sometimes makes me feel like a hungry eagle), you also get to see the band’s view of Kuroda’s light show, which is always stellar. CK5 is the only light guy in the business who puts as much effort into lighting up the crowd as he does lighting up the stage and sitting behind the band is the best way to appreciate that effort.

Secondly (and thirdly, fourthly, fifthly, etceterally), the Madison Club is a large, private viewing area with it’s own bar and bathrooms (complete with bathroom attendants turning on the tap for you and handing you towels) and several rows of large, comfortable seats, all of them with spacious desk space (yes, I said “desk space”), which is perfect for drinks and more. Especially more. It’s very, very social up there, and like I say, I dig it.

The Madison Club is clearly the press box when Madison Square Garden is hosting one of the many sporting events that regularly go on in the iconic building (like the Knicks and the Rangers, and then there was the Ali/Frazier Fight of the Century in 1971). I am confident that many lines have been produced on those tables.

In short, it felt like we were watching Phish from a business class airport lounge, and both the seats and the show were fantastic. Possum opener, Chalkdust closer, and nothing but stand-up-and-rage-this-is-Phish-at-MSG in between. And all of it in comfy quarters with great company besides. What could be finer**?

Amazingly, in this world of no tickets, I inadvertently ended up with a wristband from each night of the five-night run. Two were from the Chase Lounge bar, which we visited before a few of the shows, one was from when we were sitting way up in the SkyBridge, there’s one from the GA floor tickets and one from this night in the Madison Club. They ain’t no ticket stubs but they are ever-so-slightly better than nuthin’.

The following day we flew home to our rocky island in the north Atlantic Ocean, which isn’t quite as far from New York City as you can get but it sure feels like it sometimes.

*Marijuana had recently been legalized in New York City and while only two establishments in the entire city (I believe it was) were legally allowed to sell the stuff every single shop, store, restaurant, and lollipop stand (I believe it was) I saw was, in fact, selling the stuff, and most of them utilized totally random, haggling olde-school back-alley sketchball dealer pricing models too (or so I was informed, again and again.)

**Okay, sticking around for the last two nights would have been finer, but do you have any idea what it costs to stay in a New York City hotel for a week? And wow, the weed prices!

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