We left from Manhattan on the afternoon of July 22nd with little over 48 hours to get to our first Phish show in Houston, Texas. That's 1,650 miles. We drove to northern Virginia, barely 300 miles, and crashed. We knew we had a lot more ground to cover, but we were tired. Waking up at 10:30 a.m., Mike started driving. At 1 a.m., he stopped. 1,050 miles later. Mike is an absolute robot.
 

Driving across Louisiana with blatant New York GUYUTE license plates, I'm still surprised we never got pulled over. Not that we were speeding, but it's not like you need to on the I-10. I did the drive from Baton Rouge to Houston, seeing for the first time the big sky of Texas. I loved the 70 MPH speed limits and couldn't get enough of the Texas accent. Before the first show at the Woodlands Pavilion, I unrolled a poster and immediately drew a crowd. I sold eight within five minutes and thought, "This is going to be easy." Ten minutes later, two goons from Phish security took my tube of five. My first attempt as a vendor was fun, but I realized it would be more challenging than expected.

This was the summer of the extreme heat in Texas. Over 50 people died from exhaustion, and a lot of Heads decided to skip the Texas shows. The venue was barely half-full, and I grew to appreciate the wide-open spaces of the midwest shows. The first show was fun, but nothing extraordinary.  We drove to Austin that night, finding Mike's friend from Skidmore, Joe. Your stereotypical Texan, Joe was huge, gregarious, and drank lots of Dr. Pepper. He had this enormous house in the suburban hills of Austin, less than 20 minutes from the show. We were psyched.
 

Scoring cheap tickets in the lots, Mike and I had a blast with spacious surroundings (again) in a gorgeous venue actually called South Park Meadows. I didn't see Kenny or Cartmen anywhere.  I shared a smile with a neighbor during the Rose are Free opener, and we ended up talking throughout the show. A bearded Texan in his 30s, Jeff wanted nothing more than for Phish to play La Grange (small Texas town...). For the next show in Dallas, Jeff had 3rd row seats and planned to scream his request all night long. "You're gonna get hoarse," I told him.

Mike and I partied very hard after the Phish show.  Back from the concert, we were greeted with a house party, Texas style. To the left is a photo of an empty keg floating in Joe's pool, the morning after. It wasn't a night to be taking pictures. I remember swimming in my underwear and smoking back-lawn buds.  It was a good night.

At under 200 miles, the drive to Dallas was a breeze. The city looked pretty as we drove by it on the highway, but that's as close as we got. Sometimes I regret not spending more time in each city, but Phish beckons. And as the Austin show topped Houston, the Dallas show topped them both. I always love a Good Times Bad Times first set closer, and when La Grange opened the second set, well, I just had to smile.

The second set continued as perfectly as it started. A tremendous You Enjoy Myself followed the ZZ Top cover, and that was followed by the debut of a Neil Young cover, Albuquerque. With seven Neil Young albums, I've never even heard of Albuquerque (although I would later see him sing it solo in New York). A strange song for Phish to play, and I couldn't spell it correctly for my life. Jimi's Axis: Bold as Love was a dream, and a powerful Punch You in the Eye encore had me dancing all night.