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by whoisalhedges_Archive
In the summer of 1993, I was an eighteen-year-old recent high school graduate.A hippy friend of mine used to get me baked and drive me around as he played a Phish tape on the car stereo.In July or August, he called me up all excited fucking Phish is gonna play at the Cincinnati Zoo! How great for you, I thought. I got you a ticket, man! It's on me!...I hate looking a gift horse in the mouth. [redacted] spent $15 or $20 on that ticket, thinking I'd be stoked. How was he to know that maybe I'd rather spend time with my family before leaving the state for college, or maybe go out and be seen with my beautiful girlfriend whom my friends did not know was so bad at fellatio that I had to thrust to get off? How was he to know that I had TONS of good records and CDs at home... okay, he should've known that.So we hit the parking lot at like 6. As soon as the car door opens, I'm hit with a blast of saturated air at 95 degrees. This air is immediately redolent with the aromas of elephant and camel dung; upon this bouquet wafts notes of body odor, patchouli, and sandalwood. This must be what the Holocaust was like, I thought.Phish comes on stage after about 2 hours of this. There was also a trampoline on the stage; which was the best part of the show until someone started jumping on it. They played for 2 1/2 hours, one hour of which was occupied by a cover of Eric Clapton's Cocaine, which segued off into various directions and I guess was a medley of sorts, and made me think the original was downright soulful by comparison. This musical abomination was the worst experience of my summer -- worse than leaving behind friends and family, worse than 40-minute blowjobs that don't even allow me to think of coming, worse even than the stench of that very day, filtered through heat exhaustion, that I can only describe as the smell of children's hopes being burned.Phish is crap.Phish is crap.