September 19, 1991
Madison Square Garden
New York, NY
Set 1
Let The Good Times Roll; Jack Straw; Friend Of The Devil; Little Red Rooster; Jack A Roe; Desolation Row; Tennessee Jed > Promised

Set 2
China Cat > I Know You Rider; Ship Of Fools; Truckin > Spoonful > He's Gone > Drumz > Jam > All Along the Watchtower > China Doll > One More Saturday Night

Encore
The Weight

The following year another fraternity brother, Chris, who was living in Northern NJ, scored tickets to a Madison Square Garden show, and he offered me one. At this time in my life I was not at all familiar with New York City, and the place kind of scared me, frankly. But Northern NJ was no big deal. The plan was that I'd stay with Chris, and he'd drive us into the city and back out. Also coming along were Chris's girlfriend, C-Hahn whom we'd seen in Rochester back in '88, and a friend of his whom I didn't know. They had their own tickets. The night before we all met at Chris's house and partied it up. I had driven down in my VW van, so I could sleep in there with a whole full-sized bed to myself.

The following day we got ready for the show. I put on the Net-head t-shirt I'd gotten from the online Deadhead community. We packed a cooler full of beer and put it in the trunk of Chris's pearl-white full-sized Chevy Impala. It was brand new. Chris was in sales at the time, and this was his company car. Before we got in and took off they all ate some mushrooms. They offered some to me, but I declined. I had experimented briefly with psychedelics while I was in college, and it didn't take to long to learn that either they were too intense for me, or I was too intense for them. Either way, venturing into NYC for me was already like walking into the lions' den, and wanted to keep my wits about me. Still, just before we left, I somehow decided to nibble just a tiny little bit from a cap.

We all piled into the car and away we went. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. By the time we were pulling into the city the shrooms started taking effect. The dose was so small that the "trip" was barely noticeable. The buildings just seemed that much bigger and the sun that much brighter. It was actually rather pleasant. We drove directly to MSG, and sought out parking in the garage across the street. It was overflowing with Deadheads. I mean they were literally hanging out the windows. It looked like one huge hippie tenement. One would have thought it would be full up, but the attendant let us in. There must have still been spaces available somewhere within. We went up the ramp, around the first bend, and straight ahead of us on the far wall was an open parking space. Right there on the first level! We couldn't believe it. We pulled in, popped the trunk, and cracked some beers.

Things were going so entirely well that I figured it couldn't hurt to pop a whole mushroom cap. I put it down without thinking much about it. I don't know how much time passed, not a lot, but I eventually found myself tripping my face off. It came upon me so subtly that I didn't stress out about it, but by the same token I was entirely incapacitated. And it was just about time to head into the arena. Everyone else snuck off to a dark corner to take a leak before entering the gardens. I had to piss really, really badly, but I was tripping too hard to go along with them. I just stood there like a zombie. Soon everyone was ready to go. They grabbed me by the shirt sleeve and I walked along with them.

Now things got interesting as we made our way through tunnels and escalators, passing from one enclosed structure to another without ever seeing the light of day. In my altered state it felt like we were in a Science Fiction movie set or something. While I was completely lost and befuddled, I was with my friends, so I knew I was safe. I just allowed myself to enjoy the experience. I was really peaking at this point. Ever the victim of bad timing, just as I was peaking the hardest, my bladder situation went critical. I was standing there on a moving escalator when I sensed that I was losing urinary control. I was tripping so hard that all I could do was let it happen. There was no way to stop it. It was a surreal, dream-like experience. It was the first time I had urinated incontinently since I was a 1st grader and was too shy to ask the teacher where the bathrooms were. Fortunately my long, baggy Net-head shirt kept me all covered up an no one was the wiser. But it made this strange trip all the stranger.

Once we got into the building, someone spotted my Net-head shirt. Finally, after all this time, I met a real person from behind the anonymous electronic community. He started talking to me about technical, internet things. I was tripping way too hard to reply. I attempted to say things, but they just came out as unintelligible mumblings. My friend Chris didn't understand what was going on, and had no idea why some stranger would pick me out of the crowd to talk to. He certainly didn't understand the arcane technical language that this guy was speaking to me. Chris kind of tugged at my sleeve and I dutifully followed.

Once we were inside the structure I started coming down a little. We were on the concourse level hanging out before taking our seats. Chris's girlfriend, obviously unwilling to pee in the parking garage, needed to find a bathroom. She wanted Chris to go with her and wait for her outside. I had told myself that no matter what happened this day, I would absolutely not let Chris out of my sight, even for a moment. He was the guy with the car, he knew the city, and I was staying at his place. If we got separated and couldn't find each other again, all would be lost. I would be fucked. I watched his girlfriend take him by the hand and lead him away from me. I was back into reality enough to know this was bad, but I was still tripping too hard to do anything about it. I just watched him walking away from me, knowing that no good could come from it.

This left me with C-Hahn and his friend. We stood there waiting for Chris to come back. Time passed and he did not return. More time ticked away and there was still no sign of him. Finally the band started playing, and we had no choice but to go in without him. By this time I had somehow managed to lose my ticket stub. I was inside the building, so at least I'd see the show, but I didn't know where my seat was and would not be able to prove it if I had to show my ticket to an usher. At the time I just followed C-Hahn wherever he went. He was now my backup Guardian Angel, and come Hell or high water, I would NOT be separated from him.

As I recall we just walked into the entrance we had been standing near. This brought us onto the mezzanine level, and somehow we found ourselves directly behind the stage. This was a restricted area, but we'd just walked right in. But being behind the stage we couldn't see anything. We started walking around the circumference of the mezzanine level (Madison Square Garden is actually perfectly circular in shape). As we walked along we passed security people desperately holding the masses of Deadheads from entering this restricted space. Already in the restricted space, we just stepped behind and past these people. They were like, "Hey! Who are you?!?! You can't be here!" But they were so tied up with keeping back the crowds of people that they could do nothing but watch us continue on.

Looking back this seems rather incredible. Honestly I can't say for sure it wasn't all a hallucination. But at the time it was a hassle. We just wanted to get around to where we could see the show. Finally we managed to get into a part of the arena where we were out of the restricted space and could see the stage. But without my ticket stub I didn't know where my seats actually were. So we just kind of hung out where we were and watched the show from the aisles. I allowed myself to enjoy the show without worrying about when and how we'd be reunited with Chris. It was the first time I'd seen a Dead show while I was tripping. That was supposed to take the experience into an entirely new level. Truth be told I don't remember much about it.

When intermission rolled around C-Hahn and his friend and I went for some refreshments. We spent pretty much the whole intermission waiting in line. Suddenly I found my ticket stub. It was in the pocket that I'd already checked like a thousand times. I could now go to my seat to see if Chris was there, but I wasn't willing to separate myself from C-Hahn. So I hung out with him and his friend and watched the second set from the mezzanine.

When the show was over we went back to the parking garage. This was why I was glad to still be with C-Hahn. I knew that the garage was directly across the street from the arena, but I didn't know which one. Actually C-Hahn wasn't entirely sure either, but between the two of us we picked the right one. We went up to the first level and there was the car. There was no sign of Chris, but at least he hadn't left without us. The worst part was that the trunk was full of beer, but Chris had the keys! We hung out and socialized with other deadheads while we waited. About 45 minutes later Chris and his girlfriend came strolling up. He popped the trunk and we partied it up for a while.

Finally we got back in the car and headed out. I felt good. I'd made it into New York City and was now safely on my way out. Or at least that was what I thought. I didn't know the geography all that well, at least not by sight, but it didn't look to me like we were headed to New Jersey. Chris said that he was off to buy some weed. He wound up taking us into some really, really sketchy neighborhood. I don't know if it was Brooklyn, or The Bronx, or what. All I know is that it looked like something out of a bad movie, and here we were a bunch of white hippie kids in a honky-mobile headed straight into the ghetto. I started freaking out big time.

We pulled up to the spot where Chris was going to make the buy. I kept my cool as best I could. He rolled down the window and started making the transaction. But then suddenly he started copping an attitude. "How do I know it's any good?" he asked the tough looking black guy. Apparently he'd been ripped of not long ago. I couldn't believe he had the balls to be talking to this guy like that. I half expected the thug to pull him out of the window and teach him some manners. But it remained civil. Chris bought a bag and away we went.

All I wanted to do was get back to the (relative) security of Northern New Jersey. But Chris's girlfriend needed something to drink or something, so we had to stop at a corner store. The place was heavily fortified, like it was in Beirut or something. Chris and C-Hahn went in. They asked if I wanted to go in with them. "Not on your life!" I said. In retrospect I should have gone. They were back in a few minutes without incident. But at the time I was horribly metro-phobic, and still rather freaked out from the long and bizarre day.

After this we finally headed back to Chris's place. Except for the fact that C-Hahn and I accidentally dumped the cooler all over Chris's kitchen floor, which really pissed him off, the rest of the evening went without a hitch. The next day I hopped in my VW van and drove home.

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