Gone Phishin’

It’s been a hot minute since I posted. The past few months have been chock full stuff – and when I think back on it and and really consider things, it’s really been life – that’s what my life has been crammed with since my last post. Both highs and lows and everything in between. Right now, I’m going to tell you about one of the highs.

Some of you may not realize that I am really a hippy at heart. Being a hippy, to me, feels like choosing to live with my heart wide open. It’s about rejecting the pressure to conform and instead leaning into love, creativity, connection and passion. I think of it as a mindset – one that values peace over power, nature over noise, and authenticity over appearances. It’s dancing barefoot at sunset, questioning the rules that don’t serve us – sometimes loudly, and believing that kindness can be revolutionary. Being a hippy doesn’t mean living in the past – it means carrying onward a spirit of freedom, empathy, and joy that still matters today. Honestly, it matters more than ever now.

And there’s something about live music that feels very much like the heartbeat of being a hippy to me. It’s not just the sound – it’s the shared energy, the way strangers become a tribe for a few hours, swaying under the same sky. When I’m at a show, barefoot in the grass or pressed up against the stage, I feel that raw connection – to the band, to the crowd, to something bigger than all of us. It’s freedom in rhythm, rebellion in harmony. Being a hippy means letting music move through you, not just as entertainment but as communion; it’s where joy, protest, and soul all meet in the same chord.

So when my good friend that lives out west now offered – no, insisted – that I go with him to see one of my favorite bands, Phish, at one of the only general admission venues left around, Hampton Colosseum in Hampton Roads, VA, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. He was back East for a short leg of the end of the summer tour, which ended with a three night run at Hampton. I already had plans for the first part of the weekend, but I figured out that I could make the Sunday show and just take a day of leave from work on Monday.

So that is exactly what I did; and it was glorious.

As I left to drive to Hampton Sunday morning, it was a beautiful early autumn day with crystal clear blue skies and mild temperatures. The drive was uneventful and went fairly quickly, and I was listened to the show from Saturday night on Sirius XM as I made the trek. As a matter of fact, I purposely missed the exit for my friend’s hotel and looped around on the next exit because I was enjoying listening to the music so much and the show was almost finished.

When I arrived, I went to my friend’s hotel and we chatted as he finished prepping for the show that evening and I ferried my stuff in from my car. As we finished that, we went to a restaurant and grabbed a quick bite for lunch – which is, of course, one of those things in my life that is not always the easiest to accommodate.

Nevertheless, I have found that a surprisingly reliable choice where I can almost always either find something on the menu, or ask for a slight alteration from the kitchen to accommodate my funky diet restrictions is a standard, no-frills, classic diner. They will always at least have scrambled eggs, grits, oatmeal, and wheat toast, as well as an omelet and some type of hash browns or home fries that I can ask to be made with little or no salt. And I can usually find more options as well.

So we made a leisurely trek across the street to a nice diner and grabbed food to fuel ourselves up for the evening’s show.

I had not seen my friend in a few years and it was quite nice slowing down and just chatting and reconnecting with him. He is quite empathetic and compassionate and finds genuine joy in helping others and uplifting them; he’s one of the most generous human beings I have ever had the pleasure to know.

After we finished up with lunch, we stopped briefly back through the hotel, grabbed some last minute stuff and a few things we forgot, then headed to the venue. We parked, made notes and took photos of where we parked to be sure we found the truck later after the show was over, and began the meandering, weaving excursion through the parking lot and Shakedown Street toward the venue.

At a Phish show, Shakedown Street is its own universe. Before the lights drop inside, the lot outside is buzzing – rows of cars transformed into makeshift kitchens and pop-up shops, the smell of grilled cheese and falafel drifting through the air. It’s part marketplace, part gathering place, and part survival strategy for the folks chasing the tour. You’ll find everything from tie-dye shirts and handmade jewelry to burritos, veggie egg rolls, and yes the occasional “mystery treat” if you know who to ask.

And then there are the gems – the unexpected bites that stick with you. As we meandered through Shakedown Street, my buddy introduced me to baklava that was so good it felt like a set-list surprise. That’s the magic of Shakedown: you never know if you’re walking away with a new sticker for your car, a story from a stranger who feels like family, or the best dessert you’ve had all year. It’s not just vending – it’s community, stitched together with music, food, and the shared joy of being on the ride.

At Hampton Coliseum, there are no reserved seats – just a sea of anticipation, the line itself becoming a living extension of the show, as vital to the experience as Shakedown Street or the music echoing through the rafters. The line turns into a full-on festival before the doors open – coolers cracked open, pop-up tents pitched, lawn chairs sprawled, drum circles thumping, and yes, I even spotted a crew cooking on a hibachi. At Hampton, showing up hours early isn’t just normal, it’s strategy – because staking out that perfect spot inside is as much a part of the game as the music itself.

At this show, I ended up meeting some truly wonderful folks – friends of my buddy who’ve been around the tour scene for years. What blew me away was how connected everyone was; different groups all tied together through the music, the road, and shared history. Even cooler, a bunch of them had their kids with them – teenagers and young adults tagging along with their parents to catch the show. I thought that was just the best thing ever. It made me start thinking about bringing my oldest to a show someday. I’m not sure if he’d be into it, but I’d love to give him the chance to see what it’s all about and maybe find his own groove in the experience.

Set one kicked off with First Tube, a wild, syncopated jam that messes with time signatures and leaves you buzzing – half on edge, half in awe. Then, without missing a beat, they dropped into Twenty Years Later, this heavy, reflective ballad about life, time, and where we fit in the bigger picture. Put those two together and it felt like they were spelling out exactly where I’m at right now – this crazy journey I’m on right now. That’s the thing about Phish – sometimes it feels like the band is playing directly to your story, like the set-list is written with you in mind. And honestly, it’s not rare for me; most shows I’ve been to carry that same uncanny vibe, like they’re tapping into my wavelength.

I’m not gonna drag you through a song-by-song breakdown, but trust me – this was one hell of a show. It was the summer tour closer, so you know they weren’t holding back. Set one alone had some gems: AC/DC Bag (a Phish staple that always lights up the crowd), their mind-bending take on Strauss’ Also sprach Zarathustra (yeah, the “2001” theme, and it absolutely slaps live), and Golgi Apparatus – a quirky tune Trey wrote back in middle school that still feels like pure Phish magic.

Set two blasted off with the classic Mike’s Song → I Am Hydrogen → Weekapaug Groove combo – a Phish tradition that never gets old. That bookend of Mike’s Song and Weekapaug Groove wrapping around a long, spacey jam is pure comfort food for the soul, the thing that reminds you why you keep coming back. But the real standout for me was Lonely Trip. It’s one of those songs that hits deeper than the notes – about relationships, connections, and the strange randomness of the universe. In that moment, it felt like Trey was singing straight into my soul, speaking directly to my journey, right where I’m at in life.

The music filled me up in ways I’d been craving – it was energy, it was communion, it was my kind of church. I’m grateful to my friend for insisting I come, because what I found there was fellowship wrapped in sound.

Next post I will have some more good news! Catch you all soon – peace, my friends!