Although staying in a rather uppity all-inclusive resort packed to the chandeliers with highly motivated and generally well-to-do Phishheads can get pretty hedonistic - even for the early-rising barely-partier that I'd transformed into - by day three of Phish Mexico 2024 it was time I treated my body like the temple it is, at least a little.

And so it was that on February 23rd I rose with the sun and committed a relaxed walk in and around my end of Moon Palace, coffee in hand.  I joined in on the beach meditation session and followed it up with a visit to the resort gym for a long and sweaty stationary bike ride.  The large exercise room was packed full when I arrived; I was lucky to find a bike available.  Those richippies are go-getters, I tells ya.

I spent the rest of the day ferociously avoiding all of the alcohol I encountered (booze was available - nay, pushed - at every turn), not to mention any other smiling pills, friendly posies, or promised precursors that came my way.  I ingested nothing stronger than a chocolate milkshake until just before the first set.

I had my first drink at setbreak.

That first diversion after a day of abstention came on fast and strong.  My hands were awkward bananas and the band delivered a pretty wacky first set.  Or so I thought at the time; I daren't listen again.  During setbreak I sat with my friend in a circle in the sand and found myself too distracted to notice that I was unintentionally leaning into the stranger who was sitting behind me in his own circle of beach-sitting friends.  He made me aware of my accidental intrusion by suddenly and furiously rubbing my back, which quite freaked me out.  

At this point I figured a beer would help settle my soul and I was right.  Most particularly, holding a beer gave me something to do with my bananas.

Overall, the second set was much easier on my skandas.  After opening with a relatively chill and definitely groovy Blaze On Phish waded in to a lacklustre run through their generally-raging Chalkdust Torture.  Though I defy you to find someone who agrees with me, I thought the song was wholly under-performed.  As the song seemed to be coming to a close I nearly leaned into m'lady's ear with a “worst Chalkdust ever...” but before I did the band started jamming, so I held back.  I remember thinking to myself, “Just you watch buddy, they know that was pretty lame so they'll probably try to redeem themselves by jamming this Chalkdust out until it becomes epic.”  

Forty minutes later they had done exactly that.  And for once in my life I had kept my mouth shut.  Perhaps spending the day living life proper had something to do with it.  Hmmm.  It feels like there must be a lesson in there somewhere, but where?!?!?

(I'm sure you think I'm crazy, but I dare you to go back and listen to that Chalkdust again, but only up to the end of the song itself; stop it before they start jamming  If you do - and if you're really being honest with yourself - I think you'll find that yeah, before they started jamming it was a pretty lacklustre Chalkdust.  I mean, normally that opening riff to Chalkdust tears out of Trey's guitar like a freight train going downhill, but this one started with the energy of someone strumming an E chord around a campfire.  Sure, the jam was gold and the whole thing was the whole thing, but I'm just sayin'...)

Hood was a great set closer and Character Zero ended the show on solid footing.  As did I, thankfully.

After the show we ran into our Canadian brethren Andre and Dave and we joined them (and our other Dave) for beats, snacks, and drinks at the Nizac pool DJ afterparty, where we commandeered a very pleasant and nearly secluded thigh-high wading pool on the outside fringe of the action and enjoyed the opulent leisure of our predicament in happy, friendly solitude until the wee hours.

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