FTR – 07
So last night I ran into Sid – an old festival buddy of mine – when he was making his rounds through the campgrounds. Long story slightly abridged, by the “sound check,” (a three hour set billed as a sound check to keep costs down, ended with an apology for getting carried away… then a second indoor set) I was coming up when they played Eyes of the World. It was six different flavors of glorious. Stole my face it did.
At least I didn’t get as spun as the fat old naked guy who staggered in a roundabout way toward the exit (right past my campsite) and down past three miles of cars waiting in line to come in. I overheard cops talking about what to do about him. ”Well, if he makes it to the highway he’s the state troopers’ problem…”
“Yeah, but what about all the families waiting in line that he’s gonna walk past?”
Bear in mind, this is all before the sound check has even started. [I took a video on my phone, which I can not for the life of you figure out how to upload here, and that's probably for the best, but I'll email it to anyone who wants to see it... you sick, sick fucks]
Anyways, parked right at the center gate between the campgrounds and the stage was Furthur. The hippie bus, Neal Cassidy, Ken Kesey, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, namesake of the current incarnation of The Dead… ch’yeah, that Furthur. 
After Phil and Bob plowed through three sets of disposable rotating musicians into the wee hours of the morn, I found myself utterly drained with two days and six sets to go. Fuck, I don’t wanna end up like that naked guy…I should go back to the car, go pass out… I’ll just… rest up here, on this… what is this… for a moment…
Next thing I know, the sun is up, I’m in that first five seconds of waking up where dreams blend with reality (and Sid wasn’t helping any, exacerbating the situation, if anything) and I hear this pissed off dude screaming at the top of his lungs to, “GET THE FUCK OFF OF THERE NOW!“
Eyes start to focus, dart to a hand-painted sheet banner that says “Kesey’s Bus, but the writing was backwards, facing out the other way. I looked down at the hard metal surface I was sleeping on to be met with a psychedelic galaxy of technicolor explosion. Oh… Shit. Bail!
So within ten seconds of waking up (on top of a relic, that and seeing Kerouak’s On the Road scroll are up there on my list of relics I’ve encountered. Those and blowing lines of Al Capone’s bar…) I’d already jumped off of a bus and had my first chase of the day. Got away, great success. Now I gotta go make sure nobody took the parking spot I saved Smokey and Spitz, find them, and guide them into it.
Oh, and water…
