Throughout the course of our daily comings and goings, we pass through a nameless, faceless mass, gray caricatures that leave our remembrance as quickly as they appeared.  Then there are times when we see those people pass through our lives that give us memories that will stay with us for the rest of our days. 

In the world of the Phan, we tend to see these people more often than not.  Sometimes, these people are us, and sometimes not.  They tend to follow us, as if they are magnetically drawn to us.  Maybe they’re just tumbleweeds floating along haphazardly, directionless, or maybe they cross our path for a reason, perhaps to open up new corridors within our minds.  This one particular odd phan seems to me to be all of the above, floating aimlessly yet purposefully into my life and out just as quick.  He is a tumbleweed and a reason, a caricature and a memory.

It was the Saturday night/Sunday morning of the Went, around 3:30 AM.  The Community was still in full swing, never resting, overflowing with youth, life, excitement.  Those thousands of us that were still awake were continuing our search for the secrets that only the end of the night could tell us.  I, along with about 500 others, had the good fortune to enjoy the post-midnight “rave” with Jacques the Gay Sailor (Fishman) and his Phriends on a secondary stage.  The LSD was still flowing freely through my head, and I was enjoying a nice mellow, solitary trip. 

I had just smoked some fire during the rave with a local kid, which added to the mellowness of it all.  I would wander here and there, a huge smile on my face, realizing so many of my dreams coming true right there before my eyes.  I felt peace like I hadn’t felt in a long time.  The moon was high overhead, smiling fully, brightly down on that timeless place.  All kinds of people passed by me, all kinds of worlds and stories with them.  I wanted to hug everyone I saw, look them in they eyes, and make sure they realized just how big these moments were. 

My two friends, a guy and his gal, had overtaken my tent.  They set up an air mattress which took up about 7/8 of the floor space.  I tried sleeping in there the first night (Friday), but I was pushed up against the tent wall.  To make it even more uncomfortable, it poured that night, a cold, bone-chilling New England rain, and I woke up soaked.  I figured that for the rest of the weekend, I’d just sleep in his car while they slept in the tent.  It didn’t bother me.  They had long since gone to sleep, thus my solitude. 

I’ve never seen anyone with the ability to eat half a 10 strip, some gel tabs and mushrooms, and go to sleep a few hours later, but my friend sure could.  It blew my mind!  It sure seemed like a waste to me.  Here I was, post-show, in a great trip, all five senses on the verge of overload, and my friends were missing out on it all.  A brief wave of loss crept through me for them, but then I figured if that’s the way they want to spend there time here at the top of the United States, in the midst of one of the greatest gatherings of our lifetime, then so be it.  I’d just ride the wave out and enjoy it to the fullest. 

As the beautiful night began to get those first hues of dawn, my eyelids began to get heavy.  I had slept about 6 hours in the past 4 days, so I was needing to crash.  I knew I’d crash hard for a couple of hours, and at last I was welcoming that.  I wandered over to the Buick, feeling around for the keys.  As I glanced at the front passenger door, in the bright light of the moon I saw a ball of something slumped up against it.  It had curly hair, but I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, or if it was some wild Maine beast I was unfamiliar with. 

As I approached it, I could see that its pants were laying on the ground beside it, it had no shirt on, and it’s head was curled up between it’s legs, shivering.  Now, I could have just left it be, but in reality, I couldn’t.   This person could be in trouble, or dead for all I knew, so I had to see what was going on.   Hesitantly I said “hello”.  No response.  Again, “hello”.  It raised its head finally, and I could see it was a he.  His eyes opened groggily, and he looked up at me, and I was staring into the face of utter confusion and cluelessness.  This boy was totally gone, and it wasn’t just for waking up either.  

Whatever he had ingested during the night had left him in a heap, completely lost.  I felt so much pity at that moment, and glimpses of myself several years before flashed across my mind.  He began to mumble, and then eventually I was able to make out what he was saying.  “I’m so cold,” he kept repeating,  “so cold”.  I suggested he put his shirt and pants back on.  His arms began to sweep the ground, as if he were looking for lost contacts, until they finally remembered how to dress him.  

Once he was dressed and standing, it was as if a bit of light came to him.  He began to look around wildly and desperately, but his expression remained blank, almost mask-like.  Finally, all his focus fell on my friend’s car, and he grasped the door handle, and for a second I thought he was going to pull the door off.  He began to repeat “I HAVE to get in this car…I HAVE to get in this car”.  That was something I knew I couldn’t let happen, simply because of the state he was in. 

If he had been even a little more coherent, I’d have considered it and maybe even smoked him up to mellow him out.  Not him.  He had the classic “deer-in-the-headlights” look, and with adrenaline-induced strength he was showing, I realized that more harm than good could come of it.  My only option was to send him away into a strange dawn, hoping he could find himself in the midst of it.  He began to say “I’ve got to find my friends…I’ve got to find my friends”.  I stood there with him as he continued to repeat “ I HAVE to get in this car…have to find my friends,” praying that something would click in him and he would come back. 

After about twenty minutes of trying to talk him back down from wherever he was, it was apparent that I wouldn’t be able to.  I was now very tired, and the backseat was calling me.  I eventually sent him out towards the crowds, watching him as he staggered, expressionless, a tumbleweed in the night.  He soon was lost in the crowd, and I never saw him again.

I think of him every now and then, and wonder why, out of all the places he could have sat down, he chose, in his distant state, to sit next to my friend’s car.  Why was he brought into my realm at that time?  Was it so that I could get a glimpse of my past, who I was at one point?  Or did I glimpse the future?  Only two weeks after the Went I found myself sitting in much the same position on a cold sidewalk, beside a police car, bewildered, scared, lost, one of the many tumbleweeds in a DUI dragnet.  Was he just a poor soul whose destiny was placed in my hands for a short time?  Tumbleweed?  Reason?  Caricature?  Memory?