I remember as far back as '97 hearing rumors that Trey wanted to play the first 6 hours of the year 2000 non-stop. Having wondered when I was a child what I would be doing when we finally reached 2000, the issue was now settled. The opportunity to see a show of that magnitude could not be passed up. 

As Big Cypress was announced and drew near, I had recently graduated from college. I wanted to find gainful employment, but I'd be damned if any job was going to keep me from Big Cypress. The result was that I went with my cohorts to Big Cypress with limited funds and resources. Not only this, but we undertook the task of selling quesadillas to pay for the whole thing, which is no small inconvenience. 

The arduous trip and traffic from Cincinnati to Snake Road (we won't even go into those details) had set our schedule off quite a bit, and we ended up setting up camp very early on the morning of the 30th. We were a handful of hurt pups, and we still had several sets of Phish and a couple hundred quesadillas to go. To say the least, our mood was anything but relaxed and festive... I mean we didn't even have any herbage, and it was soon apparent to us that there was little, if any, to be found. 

Going on about no sleep, we slung a bunch of food the night of the 30th, feeding other weary, traffic-torn travelers. Still, the fact that Trey had announced an honest-to-hoil all night set for the following night kept our spirits high, for this is what we all had really been looking forward to. And while it would have been better if we had, say, about 100 good beers, a fat sack o' nugs, and a bottle of liquid, we were lucky enough to find a ball of hash as a ground score, and it would have to do. 

The mammoth afternoon set had gotten everyone pumped, and the general feel was, "How can they play all night? They've done all the songs already!" When we reconvened at midnight, the energy in the air was unreal. And although I was more or less sober, no one could deny the collective psychedelic vibe that we all shared. For all we knew, the apocalypse was at hand. The fact that all 80,000 people chose to be with Phish and each other for such a historic new year's was amazing. 

The initial Meatstick->Auld Lange Syne->DwD made it apparent what Phish was doing: They were pulling out all the stops on every song they were to play... Not worrying about set lengths or curfews or anything that would limit the music. Any problems we had had, or anything that had tormented us in getting there, were now irrelevant. We had Phish all night long, and it didn't matter if we were sober as judges; the music was the only drug we needed. 

As dawn approached, they played Roses Are Free, and it could not have been more perfect. Being the flower of the Grateful Dead, for me the rose has always represented all that is good and beautiful about the tradition of music and community throughout the years. Yet as the song says, there is a price to pay for all of this... it is not bestowed on you, "don't believe the florist when he tells you that the roses are free." 

As this jam continued I realized that all the hardships we had undergone had simply brought us closer to the experience, and increased our appreciation of it. For all those who know that it's not all about drugs...for those who have ever given something up or undergone hardships to get to a show, this one's for you. Don't forget to understand exactly what you put on the tree.

 - Mojo Hamilton