Life comes at you fast sometimes. One day you’re a middle manager at your dad’s accounting firm with a nice condo and a serious girlfriend, and the next day you’re fishing out on nitrous balloons in the parking lot at Dicks Sporting Goods Park with three guys who are arguing over whether or not Trey was better before he got sober.
Man, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. We used to make fun of people like us. Now we’re fifteen days into Phish’s Summer tour, worrying about whether or not we’ll have enough cash to make it to the next date. We used to know a guy who could front us an ounce of ketamine to sell on the lot, but we burned that bridge when we sold him out to the undercover cop who busted us at The Gorge. Now we’re stuck selling pins and shitty crystals, and no one’s buying.
And here we find ourselves, ticketless, strung out on the ground, unable to stand up or really talk while Phish is three songs into their second set. We don’t even have any weed to try and balance out the high because we traded it all to the Nitrous Mafia. Speaking of, if you see them, don’t tell them where we are. They caught our friend Fatty trying to steal one of their tanks and they’re out for blood.
Honestly, sometimes we question why we even do this, to begin with. The band fell off these last few years. Ten years ago we’d at least get a twenty-minute Bathtub Gin or Carini here and there, and now it’s like “oh cool, Possum again.” But the thought of missing out on a heater of a show is too much to bear. What if the boys were to bust out a Sand > Tweezer > Y.E.M segue tomorrow night? We’ve got a good feeling about it. Hopefully, these quartz wraps sell better tomorrow. We can’t keep banking on getting miracled.
Listen, if you see our dad, tell him we’re sorry and we want to come back once the tour is over. Also, ask him to reactivate his American Express card. There are eight shows left on this run and we promise we’ll go back to work in the mailroom until the Fall tour starts. We’ll show up every day, and we’ll make extra sure that no resin gets on the mail this time.