Chanaz was visiting Natalie for the weekend from St. Martin. I had spent the past two days with these ladies, drinking and having all sorts of adventures. On Sunday, we woke up around noon and prepared for the festival. I showered off all the dog hair that had got stuck to me during the night on the couch, and we headed off to get some food. Natalie had bought two tickets to the festival; one for her, and one for Chanaz. I was going with the hopes of sneaking in with Mike.
We ate some sandwiches on Washington Street in Hoboken, and when the skies started to look cloudy, Natalie decided that they had better wait to go. The only acts the girls really wanted to see began at 6:30. It was only a bit past 1:00, and so I went to meet with Mike, and the girls went to watch some dvds and relax.
I took the Light Rail to the Liberty State Park station and Mike was waiting on the platform. As we walked the mile to the festival grounds, the rain began. It was a light rain, nothing to stop us from scouting the perimeter of the fence for holes and unguarded entrances. We walked the eastern fence along the water, which was scattered with New Jersey State Police cars, looking for people like us. When we got to the corner of the grounds, we took a hike down a gravel path in the woods that neighbored the VIP area. We could have just walked into this area, as there was no fence and no guards, although we decided to continue on.
The rain began to fall harder and mix with thunder as we patrolled the western fence. We came across a gate for vehicle entry, which was guarded by two sleeping security guards in yellow rain ponchos. We both stopped and looked at each other, and Mike swore that they weren’t real, just dummies put there and dressed like security to keep people out. It would have been an easy entry point, but there were hours before any good music would begin, and the rain was getting thicker by the minute. It was decided that we would walk to Mike’s Jersey City apartment, about a mile or two away.
This only took us twenty minutes, and we even stopped for beers on the way. I was soaked when we arrived, and changed my shirt and socks. We drank a few beers and sat around in the dry apartment talking in excitement of our trip to South Africa that we will be taking in January with Natalie and her roommate Kristen. After an hour, Mike got a text message from Natalie, saying that she left already. We figured it would take the same amount of time to take the train from Hoboken that it would for us to walk, so we began to huff it.
I called Nat and told her to meet us at the Jersey Ave station, and we would walk the rest of the way. Mike and I talked of his travels through Central America. While in conversation, a man approached us and asked us for a cigarette. He then asked if I had just hitchhiked across the country. I was wearing blue Nike walking shoes with black socks that went halfway up my shins. My tan cargo shorts worn from overuse, my brown t-shirt that I had taken out of my “Daypack” which was still attached to my back. The beat up fedora on my bearded head was the topper. We just laughed and the guy told us to have a nice day.
When the girls finally arrived, we began to walk. On the footbridge that connected Jersey City to the marina on the way to Liberty State Park, we cracked some beers that we had brought from Mike’s apartment. Natalie showed us a dress that she had bought on the way, and I offered to put it in my backpack to which she graciously accepted. It was a white dress on it’s way to a muddy festival in the rain. The beers were chugged, and we all took turns using the marina’s unlocked bathroom stall.
The scalpers were out at this time, as the festival would be over in a few hours, and they would be out of luck and profit very soon. I approached one and asked what he wanted for his $90 ticket. Both Mike and I needed one, and the man said he would take $50. I was getting excited because Trey Anastasio of Phish was beginning his set in about ten minutes. As we haggled with this man, a fan came over to Mike and I, and ripped off a ticket for each of us, saying, “Come on, Trey is starting soon!” We had been miracled. In the live music world, a miracle is when someone gives you a free ticket, wanting nothing in exchange. It is such a rare event, that it has taken on a mysticism known only in hospitals and churches.
My spirit was lifted high. We had tickets, the rain had stopped, and I was going to see one of my favorite performers in a few minutes. Natalie had been talking all weekend about getting a funnel cake, and as soon as we got in to the grounds, Chanaz and Nat ran to the nearest fried dough stand. Mike and I trotted over to the stage where Trey was just beginning his set. It felt great to see him again. It was an odd scene though. Usually with anyone associated with Phish, I would be with John Cina and we would really absorb the tension and release of the music, and discuss the setlist and instrumentation. This was the only thing lacking during this set. I know that Mike appreciates music, which I was grateful for, but I wish that Natalie and Chanaz would have listened more instead of watching the crowd of characters that I have grown accustomed to, but which seems so foreign to them. They wandered off at one point during the set, and came back with a massive burrito, out of which it appeared two bites had been taken. Both Natalie and Chanaz complained of nausea from the funnel cake, and Mike an I had a good laugh. It was a fantastic set, and I understand the "jam" scene isn’t for everyone. I can still say that I had a great time.
As soon as Trey ended his set with a nice version of Phish’s “Heavy Things” we walked to the next stage to see Jack Johnson. I took on the roll of Natalie and Chanaz here. Although I appreciate Jack, his songs seem to run together for me after a while, which is what they say about Trey.
I took a seat in the grass to rest my legs and back for a while, while the girls got into the music. A fan, looking dehydrated, passed out near us, and we watched him be carted off by medics on a golf cart. Jacks set was really good, although I was getting very tired at this point. I took some photos of the surroundings, and then we began our walk out of the grounds.
I separated from the three of them near the front gate, deciding to go home for the first time in two weeks. I gave Chanaz a big hug, as she would be leaving in the morning. She insisted that I come and visit her in St. Martin soon. They headed with the crowd to the Light Rail, and I hopped on a ferry bound for Manhattan. Within an hour and a half of boat and train rides, I was home………..and passed out.
