By Marco Esquandolis

Now why would anybody buy a tee shirt for $520? Well, I didn't mean for it to work out like that, but that is how it turned out. My evening started off rather nicely. I met some chat pals & hung out at the Peculiar Pub in the Village and had some wings and beers. We talked and chilled until it was time to bail to the show. We took the subway to MSG. There, I had to get my tix at will-call and find Beth to hook her up with my extra. 

After going in circles for a long while, I failed to locate her. Since it was 8pm, I had to go in. I miracled my extra to a sister, then went in, got my beer, and took my seat behind the stage on level 4. I chilled and watched the show. Several songs into the set, I started shaking, like in a earthquake. I thought I was tripping balls! But, in reality it was only MSG being rocked by the Phans and Phish. After a phucking awesome day in the life, I felt that perhaps I was maybe a little too fucked up and didn’t want to walk around this large arena, so I chilled and watched the second set also. I left during the last song of the encore to get up to the room so we could hang out, jam, and drink some beers.

I walked out slightly before all the rest of the Phans, and outside all the kids who didn’t get in were waiting for the custies. Right in front of MSG, this hippie said shrooms or something to that effect, so I stopped and pondered. I asked the guy and we went to make the deal. Well, we didn’t feel all that safe, so we went elsewhere on the side of the entrance and made our exchange. 

Had I known that possession of mushrooms was a felony in NY, I wouldn’t have even considered this purchase. Not 20 seconds afterwards, I was grabbed by a short undercover and handcuffed and thrown in the van. I couldn’t believe it! I expected a ticket, not the wagon!  I kept looking for anybody I recognized leaving the show. I needed to tell someone that I was going to jail, but I saw nobody I knew.

Sitting there in the van I realized I had yet another problem... I still had my glass on me. I didn’t want to be adding fuel to fire that was going to burn me. While handcuffed, I managed to contort myself into a position (while suffering much pain from the cuffs), reached to my front left pocket, and spent 20 minutes trying to get that wonderful phatty glass out. I was very happy when I managed to get that phucker in my hand. I stuffed it into the crack of the seat and just hoped for the best.

We drove to the 14th precinct and there they led us Phans into processing. We were tagged and bagged. We were stripped searched and photographed and printed. While being searched, the cop took my cigar cutter, my pager and camera, threw out my lighter, and let me keep all the rest of my shit. While sitting on the bench waiting for all the searches, the cop placed my glass that he found on the podium and asked whose pipe it was. 

Obviously, nobody claimed it. But one phreak started saying shit like, " what? you think its mine? -Why would I have 2 pipes that are used? But it is a nice pipe, I wish it was mine, it's a work of art!.." So that phreak diverted all the attention from anyone else, and that was the last time I saw my thick phat green/yellow Colorado production piece :-(. I didn’t get re-handcuffed after my search, and one kid said some shit like "why isn’t he handcuffed?" and the cop said, "because he gets to go home."  I really wanted to believe that, but I guess I knew that this would be the first of many small mental tortures that I would experience by the correctional department of NY.

The mushroom dealer, I’ll call him Memphis, got searched also and the cops must have found about 3 ounces of shrooms on this guy, in his backpack, pockets, money everywhere... this poor guy was phucked! They took him up to the DEA guys and that was the last we saw of him for awhile. Next they placed us in this holding cell in this room. Now I know why jail is called the cooler... it must have been 10 degrees in this cage. Inside, there were about 10 Phans and one crackhead sleeping in the corner. Apparently, this guy had managed to sneak his crack pipe in and smoked it, and there it was lying on the floor in the corner. 

Another non-phan was there for robbing this lady at an ATM, but he gave her the money back cause he felt shitty, but was arrested regardless. He estimated the money at about $6. There was a cool guy named Brandon who got popped for opening a beer outside, and then they searched him and found a glass and a small nug. There was a bartender kid, married and straight looking, nabbed for buying a bag and possessing a pipe with alleged marijuana residue (one less charge for me!!). 

There was a young girl, 16 perhaps, that had been approached by some cops, and she got scared and ran. They chased her and caught her, and she fought back! Scratching eyes, punching cops in the face, just going off! They beat her ass and handcuffed her to the table, but her parents were on the way. At about 3 am they brought in more kids, mostly for illegal vending.

One kid was there for selling patchwork cords. He had 7 pairs that he made and they were confiscated. There were 2 tee-shirt guys, and this older fella who was busted selling roses. He said he usually asked for donations, but for some reason he said he felt greedy and asked for 2 dollars, and it was a cop. I couldn’t believe that all these people were here with me in jail! Most of these offenses required tickets and that was all.

The duty cop was actually kind of cool. He let us use the phone and I was able to call my Bro and tell him I was in jail, which he didn’t believe. I told him there wasn’t much he could do at this point, and I would call him again when I could. The time was about 4 am now. 

The cop talked to us and said things like that tonight’s catch was a rather interesting group... normally the cell would be full of drunks and crackheads and prostitutes and just phuckups. But since the New York police legion had learned of the easy prey and non-violent nature of the Phans, they had a big operation to make their arrest quota for the month at 3 nights of Phish. They had 60 undercovers outside MSG, mounties, beat cops... just an army to bust the peaceful Phans. So that is why the crackheads and criminals got the night off. At about 5am, Memphis was brought to our cage from a nice cell that he managed to get some rest in. Apparently, DEA thought he was small phry.

At about 6am they loaded 6 of us phans into a van and took us to central booking. Officer Bonner handcuffed me so tight that my thumbs were numb (and still are!). We waited in line to get our pictures taken again and moved to the holding bays. While waiting, the cop talked to us about our fascination with Phish and told us not to be stupid at our next show, and don’t be doing business right in front of the venue. I leaned back against the wall and heard 3 more clicks on my cuffs, and I could take no more!

"Officer, I hate to complain, but I just clicked my cuffs so tight that I can't feel my hands anymore, can you please loosen them?" He said that he hated complaining, so he did loosen them for me, and a couple of other kids too. Eventually they took off the cuffs and we got pictured and processed and left our arresting officers to go to the holding bays.

These bays were a lot like those in Trading Places- large rooms with many freaks in them. Us 5 Phans all hung out together at first. We had just missed breakfast and saw the remnants on the floor, spilled rice crispies and milk. It was still early, about 9, so I tried to sleep. One good thing about these bays was that there were phones in them. At 10 or 11 I called my Bro again and told him I was at central booking. We talked for a short while and I gave him the brief lowdown so far. 

Lunch came and we got these 4 pieces of bread and one slice of this horrible disgusting turkey loaf meat and a slice of cheese. I tried to eat it but couldn’t... I threw the shit out, as did most everyone... Except a couple of guys who wanted like 3 or 4 of them?... Seasoned professionals?... Anyway, the Kool-Aid we got was this purple stuff that was just awesome. I’m going to try and score some more in the future, except from the outside this time!

I was still hoping that there would be some way to get out in time for the show, so my spirits weren’t that bad. I tried to tell jokes and shit and managed to make a good impression with my new call mates. One joke in particular was rather good (my apologies to the ladies..) "What is the first thing that a woman who just got out of the battered women’s shelter do? The dishes- if she knows what’s good for her! :-). In here there were 4 white jock-looking guys from Philly that got busted selling nitrous at MSG. They were kinda cool and all got off with a misdemeanor. Also, there were many black guys that really didn’t understand why jail was full of so many ... Hippies?....

They were like, "what are you here for?"  And I told them mushrooms. Most didn’t have clue what mushrooms were. Even the cops were like, "we never see that shit, I haven’t seen mushrooms in 25 years, normally its crack, coke, and heroine." After a long-ass time, a lady talked to me and got some info, and then it was time for musical jail bay changes. We got all moved around and counted and fucked with. They told us so many different stories that we didn’t have a clue what was happening. One story that I heard enough to believe was that the judge had to see you prior to 24 hours after your arrest. Phuck it. A day in jail would be punishment enough for what I did.

Time dragged on and dinner finally came. No Kool-Aid this time... same old sandwiches, but an apple, which I ate happily. I was starting to realize the weight-loss potential of my stay. What a diet plan! Smoking at this point wasn’t allowed, but some of us managed to still have some smokes. The addicts were jonesing hard-core and needed to smoke, but the problem was that there wasn’t anyway to light them. 

Except this one black guy had a good system. He managed to sneak in 3 single paper matches and then split then in halves, so he now had 6. He sold each half for a dollar to the smokers and then contentedly went to chill out. Well, all these guys had matches now, but they didn’t have a striker! They would try anything to light them matches. Use their teeth, the ceiling lights, the floor, zippers, whatever. And they all destroyed their matches, and none of them poor souls got to light their smokes. At that time I was glad to not be addicted!

Time for my show was starting to run out. I was worried that my Bro and Sis were going to miss their show cause of me. Well, at about 9 o’clock the guard came down with a lot of court cards, and I was like, "who’s got my miracle!!!!" And happily, my name was called to go up and see the judge. But when I made it upstairs I was in for more waiting. 

The cell up here was by far the worst I had seen so far. I met more crazy phreaks and realized that only Memphis and myself had made it this deep into the system. Also we were the only white folk. But my spirits remained high. If I could get in to see the judge, I was sure that he wouldn’t set a bail and that I would be able to rush up to MSG and catch the last of the show. Well, 2 hours went by without a word and finally I was able to see my public defender. He was a rather older gentlemen but seemed OK. I told him my story and showed him my credentials, and together we believed I would be out on my own recognizance.

I tried to call my Bro and make sure he was there during my arraignment, but nobody answered the phone, so I was sure he was there already. While I was calling my bro, he was down at MSG, trying to find replacements for the $400 worth of tickets in my wallet. He managed to find a guy to sell him 2 tickets for $120. Now, this all sounds wonderful, my brother and sister get inside MSG and out of the kindness of their hearts, buy me a NYE tee shirt, but when they went to go into the inner sanctum of the arena, the ticket guy sternly informs them that their tickets were counterfit! 

My brother's heart was broken, mine was also when I heard what happened. Back in jail, a guy asked if I had a quarter for the phone, and I gave him one. I let another guy use my calling card to call his mom, and I let Memphis use it to call a friend to get her to come get him out. I was making every effort to stay on good terms with these people. 

Then there was an hour meal break. And with that went my hopes of seeing Phish on new year's eve -my first 3-set phish show, my phirst Phish holiday-. One of the guys I hooked up with a phone call gave me his cheese sandwich, and I decided that I would let this other guy have my turkey-loaf, cause he didn’t get any food. I ate my cheese sandwich and waited.

Memphis talked to me for awhile and apologized for getting me busted, and I told him that it wasn’t his fault and not to worry. He asked me not to testify against him and told me he had just gotten out after 18 months in Jersey and was on parole. He told me he wished he was dead. He didn’t want to go back to prison, and I can't blame him. But I did explain to him that death was a completely permanent solution to any temporary problem, and not to phucking think like that. We were not criminals, we were only good kids enjoying life. We haven’t hurt anyone and don’t feel ashamed, blah blah. 

Memphis told me about a kinda cool little thing that happened. He said he had 12 hits of acid on him, but because he was busy selling, he put them in a baggie and forgot about them. Well, he took the baggie and loaded shrooms in it, and then accidentally sold the bag with acid in it. So here was one phreak who purchased an 1/8th of booms and got a bonus 12 hits, and when Memphis got busted he didn’t have to worry about LSD possession charges. It’s strange how things work out. 

Also, I could help but notice all the little reminders of Phish that I kept running into. There was this wall that had been scratched (using coins and such) with names for years, and I saw one word, Simple. Also, there was this plaster that had broken off the wall in the silhouette of Mike Gordon's upper body and head. It looked just like his hair. I had to point it out to Memphis, who also saw the resemblance, and finally managed to smile. Finally, at midnight, they called us to court. Almost exactly 24 hours after my arrest, I was there in night court.

Night court was like nothing I had ever seen before. Simply chaos. They must have ground 30 cases an hour there. It moved so quickly, it didn’t seem fair. And also, I failed to see my brother in the stands. Not good. My lawyer and I, Memphis, and his lawyer stood before the judge, and then the young and rather pretty, fresh out of law-school prosecuting attorney presented their case. 

It went something along these lines- "Your Honor, these two men were observed and caught red-handed buying and selling mushrooms, and they are just another element to the growing problem that Phish has become. We believe that both suspects have high potential for flight and request that bail be set at $2000 for the buyer and $4000 for the seller."  I looked at this lady and she at me, and we knew that she was just playing games. It was why she was there. I scowled, because I knew that she knew what Phish and the shows were about. 

My lawyer spoke up and told the judge that I had no reason to flee, that I was a full-time communication technician, my career was important, I was a 6 year army vet honorably discharged as a sergeant, a part time college student, and said that I had no money for bail. He said that I was only here to see the concerts and enjoy the city and what it had to offer... And that I made an error trying to get some of the less desirable goods of NY (i.e. mushrooms). 

The judge asked where I was staying, and I told him the Hotel Penn. He then said some shit like, "how can you afford the hotel Penn and not have any money for bail?" Well, to boil it down, my bail was set at a reasonable $500 and Memphis’s was set at $1000. That was that. I had just spent the 1998 countdown in night court. What a shitty end to the year, and what an even worse beginning to 1998- going back to jail. My lawyer was able to call my brother at the room and told him to get the phuck down to central and get my bail money to get me out. I was going into my second night of jail with some hope of freedom to come. Well, those who can't make bail instantly go off to get processed for the long stay in jail.

This is where I will describe my limbo transition to the TOMBS. We left the court holding facility and went to an even more disgusting holding cell. We were once again printed and more paperwork was done. The computer was messed up and the date said 12/32/97, so that took yet more time to correct. One cool corrections officer named Jones wished all a happy new year and even wished me luck on my bail, saying that as soon I was downstairs, that bail would get taken care of. But to me, it was ironic that once you are set with a bail amount, the phones are no longer available for use. It's like, "good luck..."

I slept for a tad, then they brought a drag queen in with us that they called mama. It looked a lot like a chic, except when it spoke it sounded really horrible. I was disturbed for the phirst time! This one large black guy with a trench coat called Vietnam was just yapping away, so I chatted with him a bit- (Jail is a lot like the internet chat rooms, except kind of different.) Found out he was an ex-marine, busted for taking a crack hit on the street, and found with some pills. He said that the cop who busted him said he tried to sell her the pills. 

Another kid was up from Richmond, visiting NY with his posse, and got caught with a Mac 10 in the trunk of his BMW. He was going to get an automatic year if he didn’t get out on bail and escape. All were interested in why I was in, and I told em about Phish and the mushrooms, and they tagged me the mushroom man. Memphis was under the bench, sleeping as usual. And time went by very slow. And the whole time it was oh so cold.

At about 4 am we were moved downstairs to another holding cell. This time it was just Vietnam, another black guy, and the Richmond kid. Here, the correction officers were real fucking dicks. Yelling, talking shit... whatever. So here it was about 27 hours after my arrest, and all these guys were cranky, needing a smoke or something. At this point I said something to the effect of, "I know it’s New Years Day, and I’m sorry that we’re spending it here like this, and I wish I could produce a bottle of champagne, but I can’t. However, if you like cigars then we’re set." These guys' faces just lit up! I took out a cigar and they were sooo happy. 

All of the sudden some of that high-dollar fire appeared, and we had that phat blunt lit up! Vietnam took many deep drags and started yelling, "wooooo hoooo! I won't need another cigarette for days." I took a drag and almost forgot that it was a cigar, inhaled deeply and almost hurled. Richmond took a couple of drags and had to go sit and rock himself in order not to pass out and barf. Another Bro was lying down, but I passed him the cigar and he took a few too. I knew I had made some allies. And I needed them.

When we started getting our next in-processing, the desk guy said that next door called over here looking for me to get bail, but that I wasn’t here yet so they took off. I was disturbed. I kept hoping that every phone ring was my Bro calling to get me out! I wanted out really bad now. I was starting to think that I was going to end up spending another night in jail. This is where I met officer O'Neil. She was a short, white, harsh looking lady, and really mouthy. Also, she was drunk, cause after all it was New Year's, and she tried endlessly to provoke any rise possible from anyone. She said that bail is closed on the first and that none of us were leaving, except to go to Riker's.

Richmond asked her some question that pissed her off, and she made him strip to his shorts and do jumping jacks. She was yelling, saying shit like, "you don’t want to respect me, then I will disrespect you." She told us that the only items we could have were phone numbers. She was going to collect all of our money and wallets and all that stuff. And she said that the property room would be closed, so we wouldn’t be able to get our stuff. I became worried. I would need my credit card and ID and all that to pay for my $500 hotel room that I never got to sleep in. Plus my house keys... It was getting shitty.

My turn came to get searched, I placed all my stuff in my hat, and she asked me to count out my money. I did so, twice, and had $260. Then she counted it and asked another guard to do so, and he said $240. Well, that’s just great... this broad just swiped $20 from me, and she started getting mean. I asked her about my brother and if perhaps they could call and tell them that I was over here, ready to get bailed. And she got pissed. She said that he wasn’t over there and that he probably got tired of waiting for my loser self. And I said, "yeah right, he’s my brother, he needs me to drive him to the airport, he’s out from Colorado, he isn’t going to leave." She said, "you think you are going to get out of here?" And I shook my head enthusiastically and smiled the whole time, and I could see I had made a mistake. 

She got all angry and started calling me fucking smart ass punk. "You wanna be a smart ass, then I’m going to humiliate you. Go over there and strip. Take off all your clothes." I could hear another guard say something like, "what are you doing?" to O'Neil, and she’s like, "shut up, I’m going to humiliate this punk." So I’m like whatever, and take em off. She says take off your boxers. Again, I hear another questioning comment from an unseen guard who knew she was going too far. So I drop them. She says, "turn around and smile, punk." And that’s exactly what I did- I can't blame her for wanting to see me naked. I do have that affect on chics :-).

She told me to put my fucking clothes on and handed me my coats and hats and scarf, and then proceeded to spit on the inside of my MMW hat. She directed me over to this table where this other guard asked me to take off my coats, and he checked them again. He asked me and Memphis if we wanted to take a shower. Memphis said no, but I felt filthy, and said yes. So, I took off all my clothes and took the coldest shower in the coldest room on the coldest morning of my life. I scrubbed my skin with this half a bar of white soap very quickly and tried to wash my hair. I dried off quickly and got dressed cause I was so cold. 

The cold had awakened me completely, and I was not phucking happy. I went to cell 7 after that with this big black guy who was yelling about something that’s fucked up, and that he doesn’t give a fuck. Apparently, what happened was that he was set with a $5,000 bail, but when he got downstairs the bail had changed to $50,000, and basically I watched him go insane. He was calling O'Neil the worst shit he could think of. And she just smiled and said nothing. 

Several minutes passed, and then a guard came and moved Biggie Smalls out of our cell to the one next door. There was some more yelling, and then I heard the distinct pounding of a head into the brick wall, along with guard saying "why are you hitting your head on the wall, what’s wrong with you?" This happened about 4 times, and then Biggie Smalls was quiet from then on. No more yelling.

Well, breakfast time came at about 5 am. I was hungry as shit and believed that I would be spending the night on Riker's, and I knew that I would need energy. Besides, breakfast didn’t look bad. More rice crispies and 2 bananas and a loaf of bread and jelly. I ate most all of the stuff, but the milk was warm and tasted foul. Then I laid on the cockroach filth floor once again, pulled out my MMW cap, folded up my scarf like I had many times before, and made myself a pillow. My Army gortex jacket became a godsend. I’m so glad I wore it. The hood had kept my head off the floor and the roaches out of my ears while I slept. It kept my body warm enough to tolerate the frozen concrete, long enough to nap a good hour. 

We awoke to a new shift of guards and they herded us into a different part of the building known as the clinic. This was the last stage of our processing. After the clinic, only the bus ride to Riker's remained. The clinic was a room with some plastic chairs, and I knew that this was going to take a long part of the morning. I could feel the sickness in this room. The diseases of countless criminals before me. I wanted nothing to do with this.

However, there was a good distraction here: A short, red-headed little guard who was simply adorable. I had to sneak as many stares as possible. She was the most welcome sight I had seen in what seemed like forever. Also, the clinic guard put on a tape of some previously recorded Chris Rock and Def Comedy Jam shows. It passed the time fairly well, but the humor was hard to sink in. After about 2 hours of waiting, nobody had yet seen the doctor. I was so tired and impatient. 9am... I should be the phuck out of here!!!

About this time, Vietnam was escorted into the clinic, all pissed off. Apparently, he had a problem with a guard over the phone... they held him back at the tombs while the rest of us went to the clinic so the guard could beat on him for awhile. He came in with a face cut, and he looked hurt some. He saw me then, and in a manner I have trouble describing, he rubbed his hand on my head like he was with a good friend. He then asked me what my name was, and I told him.

What happened next was a bit of the phellowship and goodness between people that I seek in life. Vietnam gave me the boost of hope that I needed right then. He said that the guards were all sitting around, talking about these kids who have been waiting to bail me out for like 3 hours, and that they were just holding up the paper work, eating bagels and drinking coffee. He said I was going to be out soon. I was so phucking happy! I knew that my brother had came through! I swear that I could feel his presence for the last few hours. I was suddenly no longer worried about the rest of the day.

After about another half hour, this captain came in and said my name. I stood up and proceeded to remove my jackets, thinking that it was time for the doctor and the body cavity search and all that joyous stuff, and he said "no- you are getting out, you have bail." I got my coat, walked over to the man, and we turned to leave the clinic! I lifted my hand in a final salute to my fellow felons.

I signed my bail release, walked out, and felt so good! I was the phirst person released on bail from the NYC tombs in 1998! My brother said, "let's get the fuck out of this fucking city!!!" And I could only reply with a long fucking running dance outside, just yelling!!!! God! I was so happy to be free. When I got back to my $570 hotel, I cherished my most expensive shower. 

After that, my brother and Sister gave me the phattest, most wonderful, purple, udder ball - New Year's Eve PHISH tee shirt, and I felt the energy of all my phellow phans right then. I could see the smiles and hear the show all at that moment, and I was glad to have been part of history. On the drive home, my brother told me of the phans inside Penn Station... he talked about when he heard "Marco Esquandolis" being paged, and all the phans cheering so loud... all I could do was cry.

To conclude the story, I will briefly tell you of the hell that driving back to New York on a Monday morning rush hour was. The anxiety of the drive was punishment enough. Court went rather smooth and the judge wasn’t a dick. My public defender arrived almost on time and copped a misdemeanor from the DA, which I happily accepted. The judge gave me 3 days of community service, 1 year probation in NY, and suspended my driving in NY for 6 months. Great- I had to drive home still!

And driving home wasn’t phun either. I was on this narrow street, trying not hit any of the swarms of NY pedestrians, and then this big truck went on the side of me, and his bumper tore a huge gash down the side of my vehicle. I couldn’t even get the cops to do anything because I wasn’t allowed to drive! My bad luck surely must be gone now! That was my 1997/98 New Years/New York/ $520 tee shirt/ Phish story. Peace- and stay out of jail!

 - Drac