NIGHT OF A THOUSAND SOLOS
A Phish-out-of-water tale.
It all starts on the A train on a Tuesday, when a guy in a hemp necklace, sandals, cargo shorts, and a shirt that says “Gamehendge” turns to me and my friend to ask how many shows we’ve been to this week. At first I wonder what a Phish fan, or rather a “Phan,” looks like and if I look like one, but then I realize my friend is wearing a Jerry Garcia shirt. The two go on and on about how one night they got “Divided Sky” and “holy shit they played 'Moonage Daydream’ the other night” and generally share excitement about things I am not aware of, until we approach the 34th Street station where he turns to us and says, “Never miss a Tuesday show.” I find out later it’s an old adage of Phishheads adapted from “Never miss a Sunday show,” which applies to everyday people who actually work and don’t make a life out of following a band. Unemployment has a mantra.