Battle through Chicago traffic, careen down I-65, get stuck in forever on-going construction traffic outside of Indy, and then get stuck in the asinine ritual that is known as show traffic. All before 7:30 pm strikes, because after all, punctuality is key at big events. There is no such thing as being fashionably late to a Phishshow.

For some reason my friends (that I had gone to Alpine with) had opted to head back to Cincy and not include themselves in the fun. So, I was scheduled to be dropped off for a showdown rendezvous with my true partner in crime and show-co-pilot of three years at GloWood Campground.

After pounding out what is truly nightmare traffic, we come strolling into GloWood near 7pm, and there isn't a solitary soul in the campground. The remnants of a party that has begun and moved on to a new location are, however, noticeable. After 10 minutes of hastily wandering around, I locate my buddy's Neon and set up my tent in the nearest available green spot.

I check my pockets for all the necessary items I may need if I happen to become stranded on a desert island at some point in the evening. Let’s see: tobacco, wallet, lighter, stuff, water bottle, TICKET > check and double check. My other friends who are GOING HOME decide this is as far as they are going with me, so we promptly exchange our proper goodbyes. They disappear into the cornfields and I am left to fend for myself.

With tent pitched and gear stored, I head for the road. I begin trying to prioritize some sequence of events that will lead me to my trusty co-pilot, but as most smart people know, a plan in a place like this is inevitably destined for sabotage. I take a deep breath and gaze down the long, flat, straight road as Patsy Cline's voice enters my head to shove me off, "Boots, start walkin."

In a feeble attempt to catch a ride I hold out my thumb in the hope that maybe an old man on a tractor might be heading my way. Within minuets, much to my surprise, a white car swerves into the shoulder ahead of me. I approach and find it full of girls. (Am I in a beer commercial?) I quickly grasp that they are newcomers, and as I enter I immediately start fielding questions. I soon find myself having to unravel my day for them.

The closer I get to the present, the nearer their collective gaze shifts toward confusion. I suddenly get the feeling that I am a nothing but a listed item on a sorority-scavenger-hunt list. “…lawn jockey, crown from Burger King, Denny’s menu, and one dirty hippie.” “That was easy,” they giggle. I am swiftly crossed off the list.

We enter the lot. It, as well, has become a pretty desperate scene. Everyone I pass inquires about extras, "No dice, " I tell 'em. To my amazement and joy, I enter the show right on time, like an honored guest. “It’s OK everyone. I am here. We can get started now.” I head straight to the pavilion to meet two other friends I had set up a "drop off/pickup point" with. We exchange goods and pleasantries, and I head on in search of my co-pilot. I know he is here, but apparently, so are a few other people. Hmmm... let's see...

SHOOOMP.

The lights go down. No time to search now. I grab a spot in the front left of the pavilion and go right for my pocket. I make quick friends with this girl next to me just as the opening chords of Bathtub begin. As the first set stomps on, my roller coaster ride hits its last few, slow clinks. With the car teetering on the edge, my mind gets its first glimpse of the hill we’re about to go scorching down. Melt starts.

My new friend is quickly aware that things are changing. She laughs with me and starts to do this thing with her hands like she is breaking an egg on my head and it is running down all over my body. "You are splitting right open," she tells me. All I can think is I need no help with the Melt, but all the same it sure does feel funny to have yolk on my head.

During intermission I relay my evening’s goal to my new friend, and she offers to drive me to Glowood if I walk her back to her site, which is nearby. I quickly realize that I am not going to get around to achieving my main objective until a lot later in the night.

Second set starts off smoking. The house begins to burn. Cities > GTBT > wait, what the hell is going on... The band begins to switch instruments, and after each member settles into their new position, there stands Fish with the lead mic, Trey's guitar, and a high collared black and purple cape. He starts into Rocka William and at some point in the song I hear him mention something about the Children of the Corn. Oh, Deer Creek, I get it, whatever. The song comes off as spooky, actually the whole set comes off as spooky, but later it will prove to be much spookier.

After the show ends, we sort of wander through the lot hoping to stumble into my friend, but no luck. When we arrive at her campsite we find her car buried approximately 645 miles deep in a perpetual sea of tents and other autos. No way out, not for days. She makes me a sandwich, gives me a Dr. Pepper, and apologizes for the situation. Nobody's fault, I say. Thanks for the offer, the wonderful night, sandwich, beverage, etc. I will see you tomorrow. Hug.

It's back to me and ol’ Patsy. I head down the road behind the amphitheatre and take my proper left toward GloWood. As the fading lights of Deer Creek become a far off flicker, a lonesome chill fills the air. Peering deep into the darkness ahead of me, all I can see is offsetting shapes of swaying corn. Silence. A wispy fog gradually begins to form above the oscillating crop. I spot the moon as it methodically crawls out from behind its cloud to spy on me. Then it hits me...Children of the Corn. Uh, oh. Fear.

I try to control it, but all I can hear is Malachi’s whispers through the dense stalks. I try to walk faster, but infinite corn just mocks me. Out of the night I hear a faint rumbling coming from darkness behind me. I turn around to behold a spectrum of bright lights piercing through the ever thickening fog. As it nears, the lights get brighter and the rumble gets increasingly louder. It’s coming right at me. Oh my.

This is it

They have finally come for me

Here,

In Noblesville.

Ssssssssshhhhhhhhhhh

A school bus comes to a halt right at my feet. The door swings open. "Where ya headed?"

"GloWood," I muddle.

"We're heading to Green Acres. Get on. We'll take you to the crossroads." I imagine it’s my first day of grade school and proudly board.

They drop me off close enough for a short jaunt, and within no time I arrive, back at the eruption that has since resumed in this previously desolate landscape. I head directly to home base in hopes of finding my friend. I hit the tent and change into something warmer, check my goods, let out a big sigh, and descend into the insane madness that is now GloWood. I begin to shout his name into the air, but my meager screams are barely noticeable over the thousands of nitrous tanks that hiss away like devils into the night.

“Eight for ten,” I overhear.

“I don’t care. I’ve got unlimited air,” as he points to the open rear door of his van. I grab a brew and slosh on.

After some large chunk of time passes I am starting to get a bit concerned. I decide to swing around back towards the Neon again. As I approach I notice a silhouette in the darkness leaning against the car. AH HA! That has to be him. As I near, the shape makes a sharp stagger left, bounces off the trunk, and disappears behind the rear of the car. I immediately quicken my pace out of worry and curiosity. Rounding the car I find my long-lost friend face down in the dirt, clutching dearly to a yellow balloon.

I pick him up, lean him against the car, dust him off, and ask him if he is ok. He is as frozen as Han Solo. "Hold this," he mumbles in slow-mo speak and shoves the balloon into my chest. "I'm here, I'm here, I’m here, I’m here," I repeat in the utter excitement of attaining what had become an all day personal goal of mine. "Give me that back," he mumbles again and grasps blindly for the balloon.

Balloon back in hand, he politely thanks me for helping him up and says, “See ya later bro.” “Dude, what?” After an onslaught of "It's me dude," and a little face slapping, his eyeballs finally roll back to the front of his head and parallel themselves right into mine.

A smile slowly crinkles his purple lips.

"Spaulding. Hunh. When'd you get here?"

- Spauldazzio