The first set was probably the greatest hour and a half of my life, but unfortunately this was not a sign of things to come. Things started to take a turn for the worse during that blistering Maze in which Trey hit three of the scariest notes I have ever heard.  It was not long after Maze that I had convinced myself that the Spectrum had suddenly become a scene from Star Wars (thanks Kuroda), and it was in my best interest to get some air. 

Before I left, I heard a song that literally made me cry, and the combination of emotion and fear sent me running for the mezzanine. Not knowing Phish's music that well, I had searched for weeks to find out which song had me running for the exits. I know it may sound weird to some, but those of you who know what I'm talking about understand that Phish is able to take you to a level you never thought existed. And no, you don't have to be on drugs to get there, but sometimes it helps. 

About a month later I was in the Poconos, chemically altered again, when that same song started playing. I grabbed my friend and told him that this was the song that sent me packing. After explaining to me that the song was The Man Who Stepped into Yesterday, he then told me that it was not possible that this was the song because it was not played that night. 

Two days later I got a call from my friend telling me that in fact they did play Man Who Stepped, and it was at exactly at the same time I headed for the mezzanine. 20 shows later and years wiser, I am still waiting for my second Man Who Stepped, and next time I'll be prepared.