It all started the day I got accepted to grad school. The ball had been put in motion. My menial job as a bilingual claims adjuster for a large pro-legalization, then auto, now full-line, insurance company seemed much less meaningful. I mailed ordered a pair of tickets for the first four shows of fall tour, Vegas through Denver. My great friend John from undergrad would fly to Vegas and meet me. 

In the meantime, I cruised RMP to follow threads and track down either riders or other potential caravaners looping from Austin through Phoenix to Vegas to Salt Lake to Denver and back to Austin (best case scenario). Brian had posted on RMP that he needed a ride from Vegas through D-town Providence. I replied and we spoke on the phone, and it turned out he was just up I-35 in the land of big hair and sprayed-on jeans. It turns out he was headed down to tape Rusted Root the next weekend in Austin, so I offered my apartment as lodging. 

I posted on both RMP and AOL to search for riders. Some random dude responds off of the AOL message board, then calls me to verify.  We chat, and it seems that things are going to work out, but he has to get a ride to Austin. Not being one for breath holding, I continue to hope for something more solid. Brian wheels into town for the Rusted Root show and we meet prior at El Arroyo for some margaritas and general getting to know you type stuff. We head over to the show and enjoy it. 

Afterwards, we return to my apartment and proceed to spin the Dallas summer '97 show from his archive and hangout ‘til late. My girlfriend, now wife, and I had just gotten back from a whirlwind tour of Europe, including hitting the Oktoberfest in Munich and a 3-day stay in Amsterdam, wherein I proceeded to smuggle two grams of hash and a gram of White Widow back stateside in my front shirt pocket. 

Two days later I get another response to my postings, and this seems more tangible as the person, Russell, actually lives in Austin. I give him the go ahead, and plans are now almost entirely in place. On RMP I saw a posting from Pete as to where people were staying in Vegas. I replied Circus Circus, and we had a match. Also, I noticed a posting from someone, Jon, heading out from Phoenix to Vegas and Salt Lake, so we made plans to hook up and caravan from Phoenix through Salt Lake.

The day of reckoning arrives, and as planned my rider going full loop shows up at my apartment at 5AM.  I kiss Andrea goodbye and we hit the road. About an hour west of Austin we stop for gas, and as I am filling up, a Jehovah’s Witness approaches me, hands me some free literature, and wishes us luck in our travels. Once on the road again, we burn one, we hit the interstate and literally get caught in a speed trap. My car is still reeking of herb, so we roll the windows down and my rider lights up a smoke; I am a fascist ex-smoker and would only allow it as a camouflaging technique. I should have known better, too. Almost two years prior I got caught going the opposite direction as I was moving to Austin! 

Anyhow, my demeanor and personality, coupled with telling the sheriff what seemed like a plausible truth, I got just a speeding ticket. I do have a leadfoot. I lost all I had planned to gamble with a speeding ticket. Asi es la vida! The rest of the ride to Phoenix went without incident. I called my would-be fellow caravaner, Jon, and there was no answer, so I left a message where he could reach Russell and I. We made it to a friend’s house to crash for the evening. 

The following morning I call around to track down a friend of mine for a free lunch, as he manages a restaurant. Nothing beats good food except for free good food. We finally hook up with the other party in our caravan. We hang at his place near ASU, a student go figure, and I knew we would need to be at the Vegas airport by 10:30 PM, so we made plans to head out at about 5 PM. The roads were clear as were the skies, and it was darn near a full moon. 

Nothing beats driving through the Arizona desert on a clear moonlit night, except turning off your headlights and running lights to go stealth until you are right on a vehicle traveling the other direction. Russell was probably fairly scared due to the extreme thrill of it all and/or thought of his own mortality. Everything was under control as I was schooling off of Jon’s driving in front of us. No worries until he got with the program and was doing the same as me. 

We ran into traffic at Hoover Dam, but after that it was smooth sailing. Unfortunately, our caravan broke in Vegas, never to hook up again, as we made our way to the airport. I picked up John and Brian, who were on different flights but arrived within minutes of each other, NICE! We headed over to Circus Circus and checked in. We are hanging out, getting to know each other, burning and spinning tape when the phone rings and it is Pete from RMP. He heads over, and it is an evening on the town for some random strangers quickly becoming friends. It was a late night as I recall. 

The following morning, as we approached the buffet for brunch, some random head asked us if we had any extras.  It was not a sold out show, and this was his headcheck for whether or not we needed any liquid. Brunch was good, then we proceeded to gamble a bit and check out the strip some more. In October I found a briefcase that was really a liquor cabinet, so we picked up a bottle of tequila and margarita mix for the pre-show lot scene. Five grown adults, John, Pete, Russell, Brian and myself, piled into my small to midsize car and headed out to Thomas and Mack. 

The lot was chill, but the man was around to enforce no booze in the lots. Fortunately, my briefcase and red plastic cups prevented suspicion from falling on my shoulders. Brian headed in early to get set up while we proceeded to imbibe profuse amounts of tequila. After the tequila was gone, we headed in to find seats and Brian. We found a nice spot to the left of the tapers section and thus Brian. 

I ran into a high school classmate, David, who was taping also. I had not seen him since high school, and at that time I would never have guessed about running into him at a Phish show, mod that he was taper head that he is. Small world, huh? I partied even harder inside, spending more on beer than necessary. The show rocked! Anyone remember the Dick Tater? Somehow he got on stage during the second set. Funny! 

After the show, we drove back to Circus Circus. Everyone took off to gamble while I spun the show to analog. I passed out at 3:30ish, so Russell had to get a maid to key him into the room. John and Pete spent the night gambling, and when John came back to the room at 5:30ish, he proceeded to scream “Where’s Brain?!!?” in a plaintive drunken howl. It was outrageously funny. Brian wheels back about 30minutes later and passes out. 

At 10AM I become conscious and start to rouse the troops upon realizing our critical path. Five minutes later we are in the car and heading out of town, without Pete. Pete was headed to Denver to hang with some friends. We stopped for gas and tacos, where I procured a plaque with pheasants on it, and a random man approached me as I was filling my gas tank. He said, “ I am going to be brutally honest with you. I just got out of prison and spent last night in the field across the street sleeping in a box. Could you spare some change?” We gave him five dollars, wished him well, and went on our way, as we were according to our schedule late. 

The ride was nice but the traffic getting to the show was outrageous. We actually got off the freeway and drove blindly towards where we thought we needed to be. The Force was with us! Keep in mind this is Utah in November. ShowTime was upon us, so Brian grabbed his gear and hopped out and ran in to set up. We park, Russell scores a ticket, and we head in for the show. 

At set break, I am waiting in line to use the bathroom when the guy in front of me states, “Welcome to Utah, Expect Delays.” I almost fell down laughing because of the sign on the interstate as we approached the Salt Lake metro area, stating just that. Poignant statements can be funny. Second set rocked, my first Piper! After the show we head back to the car.  It is starting to snow, and we all simultaneously realize that Brian is wearing a T-shirt and jeans with no idea where we have parked. WE find him and start our precarious trek to Denver. 

About an hour outside Salt Lake, we stop at Lenny’s... er, Denny’s for some grub. About another hour after Denny’s, sleep becomes highly relevant, so we hunker down in some bohunkus town along the way for the evening. The next morning we hit the road for D-town. After about an hour en route we needed gas, so we pulled in and filled up, and away we went. Well, my leadfoot got the best of me, and I was able to maintain for limited portions of the trek a speed in excess of 90 miles per hour. 

About 30 miles from the Colorado border, while driving through the town of Vernal, we were stopped by the police. He was headed in the opposite direction, and after spotting me turned around and turned on the lights. I pull over and prepare for what I’ve been told as the harshest police treatment of heads and the like, not that my car or any of its occupants would tip off the authorities. 

The officer asks for my driver’s license, insurance card and registration. I of course provide him with such, and then the following dialogue takes place. 

Officer: “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

Me: “Well, to be honest with you, no. I have no earthly idea. Why did you pull us over?”

Officer: “We have had multiple reports of this vehicle driving recklessly from as far away as Duquense County!”

Everyone in the car except for me in unison: “RECKLESSLY!!??!!??”

Me: “I’ll be honest with you, officer.  I may have been going five, maybe ten miles over, but in no way have I or would I endanger the lives of my friends!”

About this time, I look down at the center console and notice a freshly packed bowl in plain sight. At this point I conveniently position my leg as to block the line of sight, a wise decision if you ask me.

Officer: “Well that’s good. Listen, I didn’t see you do anything wrong, so I am just going to run your plates and driver’s license and send you on your way. “

Me: “I think I can handle that. Thanks!”

Officer: “Where are you guys headed?”

Me: “Denver, he lives there.” I point to John who smiles and nods in acknowledgement.

Officer: “Where are you coming from?”

Me: “Las Vegas.”

Officer: “How much money did you lose?” Pretty assuming if you ask me, but that is why they get paid the big bucks!

John: “$350”

Brian: “$150”

Me: “ I don’t gamble.”

The Officer goes to his car to run my data. I quickly hand John the pipe and he stashes it. Meanwhile we kibitz about this being one of the most positive encounters with law enforcement ever. The officer returns. Officer: “Well it looks like you are good to go. So, you are from Austin?”

Me: “Yes and so is he.” I point to Russell.

Officer: “My uncle owns the Texas Chili Parlour there. You ever eat there?”

Me: “Yeah, I love their chili.” The bullshit is getting deeper here.

Officer: “Well listen. You have approximately 31 miles to the state line, and between here and there are four state troopers who will definitely be looking for you, so keep at the speed limit.”

Me: “Yes sir, officer. Thanks for the heads up, and you have a great day!”

Officer: “Thanks. Be safe.”

And with that I started the car and drove ever so cautiously towards the Colorado border, which had suddenly metamorphosed, into the Promise Land. No Fooling! Not 5 miles outside of town, the first one pulled out and tailed us for about 6 miles. Very Stressful! Then three miles later, I spied another trooper off the road about a mile or so to avoid my rudimentary detection. He pulled out and tailed us for 4 miles after we gave him the slip by stopping at a rest stop. 

After a few more miles, another pulled out and tailed us for what was the most stressful portion as we were slowed up between some octogenarian driving their Lincoln TownCar 45-MPH in a 55MPH zone. I had clear road and broken yellow center stripe with an adrenaline-addled trooper tailing me. I was not going to give Johnny Law a reason, however miniscule, to detain us, so I dealt with the stress. During this portion, trooper number four passed going the opposite direction, so that gave me some relief.  We made it to Colorado without incident, and we all breathed a sigh of relief, or should I say breathed the exhaust of some burning organic compound. 

The trek continues to Winter Park, where we stopped for dinner at both McD’s and Subway, depending on who you followed. We made it over Berthoud Pass and then on down into D-town. We stopped to get gas, and the odometer for this leg of the trip read 420 miles. Coincidence? Who knows?!? What was interesting was the fact that this leg of the trip had many uphill sections, an encounter with the Law, and four grown adults, plus a very full cargo load. FYI the car is a Saturn ’96 SL1 that I have affectionately dubbed the ‘Silver Bullet’. 

We head over to John’s house and start drinking, smoking, throwing darts, etc. My brother Ethan arrives, and he just spent the later part of the afternoon randomly with Trey and Fish at a bar in Boulder, The Catacombs I think. We head up to Boulder to try to find the boys and visit a glass blower to perhaps pick up a piece. Nothing. We head back to Denver and crash out. 

The next day, we head off to the show with John’s roommate, one of my ex-roommates, Matt, for what would be his first Phish show. We spend the pre-show lot time wandering around, shouting random Russian phrases. I still do shout in Russian at shows for fun! I notice no one speaks Russian or understands it, so I come across like a freak at the shows these days, one of the many. The Shows in Denver were great! 

Tuesday morning rolls around, and Russell is crashed out hard and cannot wake up.  Pharmies will do that. Brian needed to catch a flight to get to some moe shows in the South somewhere. We barely got him to the airport on time. He had to run to catch his flight, carrying all of his gear. He barely made his flight, but was able to get to the moe shows just fine. 

I got back to the car with Russell waiting, and we embarked on what would be the last leg of the loop. After 13 short hours, we're just short ways outside of Austin, and this fog rolls in. The stuff was so thick that my average land speed had to be reduced to 20 MPH. We damn near hit a deer in the fog. Well, at about 1 AM, I dropped Russell off at his place and made it back to my apartment for some well-deserved rest.

All in all I had a great time, and from the sounds of it everyone else seemed to have had a good time too. Interestingly enough, I am in contact with these people to this day, although in some very random instances. Just another example of how Phish can bring some random items into order.

- Justino