November 2nd, 2014 marked the final night of a Phish triple-header in beautiful Las Vegas, and what a run it was. With a little bit of effort Las Vegas can really be a whole lot of fun and so, so much more than tables and slots and tables and slots, and I gotta say m’lady and I made the best of it, as we tend to do.

(Always remember: Whatever happens in Vegas, occurs in Vegas.)

In retrospect it’s amazing that we managed to pack so much into our stay considering there were three Phish concerts at the centre of it all, and multi-night Phish runs can be rather exhausting. And also in retrospect (isn’t everything from the past “in retrospect?”*) I can’t really figure out whether seeing Phish in Vegas makes it more or less tiring. One thing I can assure you: seeing Phish in Sin City is a unique experience.

First of all, for the multitudes staying at the MGM Grand the venue itself was just an elevator-ride away. One could safely go to the concert in slippers. And boy, did those MGM patrons make out like bandits when we all discovered that concertgoers were allowed to leave the arena during setbreak and re-enter for the second set (something I have never, ever heard of before)…bada-bada-boom straight up to the room to fill your boots for a fun set two. And get this: the venue allowed people to bring in their own drinks as long as everything was in plastic cups. I saw people filling Big Gulp containers with straight whiskey, and no need for sneakin’. So far the score is: two points for more exhausting, one point for less.

Not to mention the very salient fact that when the doors opened at the end of the concert every night they expelled 17,000 revelling friends-in-waiting straight into the belly of the biggest party-town in North America, a match made in…well…not Heaven exactly, but Vegas and Phish fans seemed to work well together (3-1? 2-2? As the weekend moves on it gets increasingly difficult to score). Heck I saw dudes with backpacks vending stickers and shirts alongside banks of slot machines while a dready wook wandered amongst blackjack and roulette tables strumming out-of-tune songs to no one and everyone.

Oh, and the band delivers nicely too. They started off this run with a Disney-inspired Hallowe’en set that has become legend, followed by a rockin’ rager to keep us all interested on night two. By the time we get to this show you’d think the fans and the band alike would be worn to the frazzle, but they ground out a second set that had me jumping to the rafters for seventy-five minutes straight (metaphorically of course. In reality I was swaying slowly from side-to-side with both feet planted firm and hard on the floor. Which is my way of raging), through the David Bowie and the YEM and to the very end of the almost inevitable run closer, Slave to the Traffic Light.

But the very, very best thing I saw, the single greatest thing about seeing Phish in Vegas, and the main reason I can’t wait to go back and do it again was something I didn’t see, hear of, or possibly imagine until about ten minutes after the final concert ended. And when I saw it I was so full of admiration and pride in my jamband brethren that I had little room for the jealousy that should have been searing through my soul…In retrospect (sorry…) I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself.

But man, when I was standing outside the arena on the swirling carpet of the MGM Grand gaming floor and saw two heady-headies walk out of the show and immediately mount a pair of those for-hire handicap carts my brain almost broke. As I watched them race off towards the elevators with drinks in hand and spouting wide-smiled yee-haws the whole way it occurred to me that I had missed out on having my very own room-to-venue all-terrain vehicle for the weekend and I vowed to either a) turn back time and rectify my mistake or b) go see Phish in Las Vegas again at my next opportunity.

And here I sit, having broken both promises. What has become of me?

*I would point out how redundant it is to point this out, but it feels like doing so would be redundant and repetitive.

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