my roommate is driving, we get about thirty minutes outside of hampton, grooving to sand from the night before (my roommie was a taper) when, from out of nowhere my old roommate calmly says, "we're getting pulled over." i laugh, for surely he's kidding. he has a quarter of weed in his bag and a glass piece. this is inconsequential to me. the important thing in my mind is not only the miniscule amount of pot in my bag and my pipe beside it... no, in addition to this, what's really causing me concern are the ten hits of ecstasy that are in the s'mints box in my bag. 

sure this sounds like a good place for them, how could one tell they're not breath mints, right? the problem is the s'mints box is blue and white, suggesting a serene arctic sensation when one pops a delicious s'mint in one's mouth. the ecstasy, however, is pink.

the kind police officer of course asks if we mind if he searches the car, for his safety as well as ours. "no problem, dude," we utter, or at least words to that effect. he hits my bag first. almost instinctively he takes out the small bag of weed, followed in short course by the pipe. i feel as though i'm already doomed, and i momentarily forget about the ten strip. then it happens. he hits the s'mints box. 

if you're unfamiliar with the architecture of a s'mints box, allow me to enlighten you. there is a small button on the top of a s'mints box, when pushed down, the button ejects a small white arm (keep in mind the box is blue), in which is stored a delicious, white breath mint. when the officer looks inside the arm, he sees a pink pill and asks, "what are these?" dejectedly, i mumble, "breath mints." 

what follows may be one of the most surprising developments in the history of phish stories, law enforcement, and general misbehavior... he closes the arm and puts the "breath mints" back in my bag. he half'heartedly proceeds to my roommate's bag (you would recognize his screen name from the boards, but he doesn't know i'm writing this, so i'll protect his anonymity). he somehow overlooks the bag of pot in his bag's FRONT POCKET. he then proceeds to write me a small ticket and wishes us a happy show.

upon arriving at the hotel in hampton, meeting up with two more friends, and reliving this unprecedented turn of events, i discover that in the same pocket of my bag where the pot was is also a forgotten two hits of acid from some untold show in the past.

those "s'mints" made the first night the most underrated show i've ever seen. the two pieces of paper made buffalo bill very exciting to hear the next night.

peace,

- kris