We were in the balcony instead of that strange pit downstairs at the Bayou. It was the first show where I noticed "hippie-twirling" in the back, and it registered as a form of cognitive dissonance. Well, there's no accounting to how people are going to react to the same input.

The show was great but my girlfriend had a psychic meltdown of sorts. I guess the cognitive dissonance was, for her, a little much. Like the patient saint that she was, she stood by me that night until the bitter end. I had a premonition that it would be my last "club" show, and I was right.

In 1993 (missed '92), I felt the sting in Portland, Oregon, being unable to get into the Roseland shows. Unable to get inside a Phish show? Huh? It made me nostalgic for the Bayou, something that (back then) seemed a long way in the distant past.

Weird.