Dead (At 16)

By Axel Ryder

The Grateful Dead came to me at the ripe old age of sixteen. And I welcomed the band into my life. I was intrigued about all the interesting and mind-altering avenues the band, and more specifically following it, had to offer. I was like a sponge, absorbing every last drop of excitement. These were the days of spontaneous youth, of abandoning yourself. And I knew deep in my heart that these days, this life, could not be wasted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984543417

Axel Ryder

I started off like any other typical Grateful Dead fan, trading and listening to bootleg recordings. As time went on I began to immerse myself with living the Dead lifestyle. The band and the community that surrounded them were so captivating, it was magical. A Grateful Dead show was the only place I knew that provided an environment that fostered creativity, music, dance and family, all interconnected. Anybody could become somebody, and that helped strengthen the bond amongst our band of brothers and sisters. There were many times I would go to a show just to dance, or lose it, but I definitely had more than few enlightening experiences as well. Sure, it was a big party from front to end, but thats not what it was all about. It was about living life and giving shape to the musical fabric that the Grateful Dead had woven for us. To make the most of that time and space.

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Copyright © 2018 by Axel Ryder.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2018908903

ISBN:               Hardcover                978-1-9845-4343-1

Softcover                  978-1-9845-4342-4

               eBook                        978-1-9845-4341-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 08/20/2018

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1   Shadowboxing The Apocalypse The Beginning

Chapter 2     The Bus Drove By, And I Got On My First Show- Buffalo, N.Y, 1993

Chapter 3     The Friend Of The Devil Is A Friend Of Mine

Chapter 4     Before We Slip Into The Night, You’ll Want Something To Drink Phish Summer Tour 1993

Chapter 5     Watch Each Card You Play And Play It Slow

Chapter 6     How Sweet It Is! Jgb- Buffalo, N.Y

Chapter 7     Simple Twist Of Fate

Chapter 8     The Lord Will Come To Get You If You Don’t Walk Right

Chapter 9     Oh, You Don’t Know The Shape I’m In

Chapter 10   The Candy Man’s In Town - Richfield Ohio Spring Tour 1994

Chapter 11   One Step Down And Another Begun – Richfield, Ohio, Day 2

Chapter 12   You Got To Run Like An Antelope Out Of Control

Chapter 13   These Wheels Are Bound To Jump The Tracks

Chapter 14   I Shuffle By Alert But Numb: Phish, Canandaigua, N.Y

Chapter 15   I Need A Miracle … Summer Tour 1994

Chapter 16   His Buckle Was Silver, His Manner Was Bold - Auburn Hills, 1994, First Night

Chapter 17   Come Wash The Night Time Clean: Auburn Hills Day Two, Jerry’s Birthday

Chapter 18   Tell Your Mama And Your Papa, I’m A Little School Boy Too

Chapter 19   In And Out Of The Garden We Go - The Boston Garden, October 1, 1994

Chapter 20   In And Out Of The Garden We Go – Boston, Day 2

Chapter 21   The Wheel Is Turning And You Can’t Slow Down

Chapter 22   Halloween Bouncing Around The Room: An Evening With Phish

Chapter 23   I’m Tied To Him Or Him To Me Depending Who You Ask - Phish Syracuse New York

Chapter 24   Might As Well, Might As Well!

Chapter 25   Philadelphia – Spring Tour 1995: Here Comes Sunshine

Chapter 26   Philly Day 2 - One More Saturday Night

Chapter 27   Philly Day 3 – Searching For The Music, Searching For The Sound!

Chapter 28   We Can Share The Women, We Can Share The Wine: My Senior Prom!

Chapter 29   Well The Doctor Calls Me Crazy, Sometimes I Am, Sometimes I Ain’t

Chapter 30   Summer Tour: Giants Stadium, 1995 – Going Where The Winds Don’t Blow So Strange

Chapter 31   Giants Stadium Night Two – Dizzy Possibilities

Chapter 32   Your Typical City Involved In Its Typical Daydream. Hang It Up And See What Tomorrow Brings

Chapter 33   Albany, Night One: The Sky Was Yellow And The Sun Was Blue

Chapter 34   Albany, Day Two: Help On The Way!

Chapter 35   From Day To Day, Just Letting It Ride

Chapter 36   Maybe You Had Too Much Too Fast: Auburn Hills, 1995 Day One

Chapter 37   I Got Me A Violin And I Beg You Call The Tune - Auburn Hills Day Two

Chapter 38   Going Down The Road Feeling Bad - The End – Or Is It?

Chapter 39   I Could Be Going To Hell In A Bucket, But At Least I’m Enjoying The Ride: Pittsburgh

Chapter 40   Back Home, Sit Down And Patch My Bones, And Get Back Truckin’ On!

Chapter 41   One Long Party From Front To End: Chicago

Chapter 42   So Many Roads Ease My Soul: Chicago Day 2

Chapter 43   He’s Gone: The End Of An Era

Chapter 44   We’re All In The Bathtub Now…- Phish In Pittsburgh, Fall Tour 1995

Chapter 45   Since It Costs A Lot To Win, And Even More To Lose

Chapter 46   Split Open And Melt – Phish, Niagara Falls Winter Tour, 1995

Chapter 47   I See A Dozen Dreams In Every Passing Mile: Winter Vacation

Chapter 48   Great North Special, Will You All Board: Summer 1996

Chapter 49   Little Bolt Of Inspiration

Chapter 50   I’m Gonna Beat It On Down The Line: The Road To Colorado

Chapter 51   Without Love And A Dream It Will Never Come True: My Short Life In Colorado

Chapter 52   It’s Gotta Be Easy, No Splitters No Pain: Park City, Utah, Phish Tour Begins

Chapter 53   Seven Turns On The Highway: A Night With The Allman Brothers Aug. 3, 1996

Chapter 54   Lifting Up His Head, He Feels The Sunlight In His Eyes: Phish At Red Rocks, Day One, Aug. 4, 1996

Chapter 55   Trapped In Time And I Don’t Know What To Do: Phish At Reds Rocks Day 2

Chapter 56   I Will Pick You Up At Eight As Usual, Listen For My Horn: Red Rocks Day Three Aug. 6, 1996

Chapter 57   There Ain’t No Time To Stash The Gumbo: Red Rocks Day Four, Aug. 7, 1996

Chapter 58   It All Rolls Into One: The Tribute Show, Aug. 9, 1996

Chapter 59   Going Where The Climate Suits My Clothes: The Trip Out West, And Back East Again

Chapter 60   If You Plant Ice, You’re Going To Harvest Wind: The Beginning Of The End

Chapter 61   If Time Were Only Part Of The Equation: The Last Hurrah

Chapter 62   Tangled In The Remnants Of The Knot I Left Behind: The Last Hurrah, Part Two

Chapter 63   Nothing To Tell Now, Let The Words Be Yours, I’m Done With Mine!

References I: The Bands

References II: The Drugs

The stories in this book reflect the author’s recollection of events. Some names, locations, and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted. Dialogue has been re-created from memory.

Introduction

The Grateful Dead came to me at the ripe old age of 16. And I welcomed the band into my life.

I was intrigued about all the interesting and mind-altering avenues the band, and more specifically following it, had to offer. I was like a sponge, absorbing every last drop of excitement. These were the days of spontaneous youth, of abandoning yourself. And I knew deep in my heart that these days, this life, could not be wasted.

I started off like any other typical Grateful Dead fan, trading and listening to bootleg recordings. As time went on I began to immerse myself with living the Dead lifestyle. The band and the community that surrounded them were so captivating, it was magical. A Grateful Dead show was the only place I knew that provided an environment that fostered creativity, music, dance and family, all interconnected. Anybody could become somebody, and that helped strengthen the bond amongst our band of brothers and sisters. There were many times I would go to a show just to dance, or lose it, but I definitely had more than few enlightening experiences as well. Sure, it was a big party from front to end, but that’s not what it was all about. It was about living life and giving shape to the musical fabric that the Grateful Dead had woven for us. To make the most of that time and space.

As a Dead Head, it became a badge of honor the more shows you attended. It was the currency of conversation when strangers stopped strangers and shook hands. What do guys or girls who don’t know each other talk about? They talk about sports or clothes. It’s a way for them to get to some level of understanding, to help break the ice. For Dead Heads, your show count is the same thing. And because no two shows are ever the same, there was always the ultimate chase for that "Bag Full of Diamonds," to try and capture the elusive show that comes only once in a decade.

I wanted to be a part of that special club and to feel that same experience that veteran Dead Heads talked about. Since I could only attend a handful of shows a year, and only started to see the Grateful Dead at the twilight of their storied career, my chances were slim. I often wondered, Will I be lucky enough to capture one of those magic moments for myself?

When you are completely consumed by something, whether it’s good or bad, it alters your sense of equilibrium. My consumption of the Grateful Dead led me to constant touring, devouring and selling millions of micrograms of LSD, pounds of marijuana, mounds of magic mushrooms, and a lot of pure MDMA. To come down from a high or just out of pure boredom, I would also take sleeping pills such as Rohypnol and Valium. I wasn’t even afraid to take harder drugs like freebasing cocaine, just to experiment and have a good time.

As you would imagine, I was a train waiting for a wreck. My parents could only stand by, watch, and hope I didn’t crash. I didn’t want the party to ever end. But, as we all know, good things don’t last forever. I wasn’t a rock n roll star or a famous actor. I was just a regular kid who did his best to party like a rock star. I was just having the best time, the best way I could.

I died with the band, and learned to live. I was Dead at 16.

Chapter 1

SHADOWBOXING THE APOCALYPSE THE BEGINNING

I was living in a charming little town called Amherst, N.Y., when the bus drove by and I got on. My first handshake with the Grateful Dead came when I was just in middle school. Although it wouldn’t be until a few years later that I became a fan, it was my sister’s high-school boyfriend, John, who had me intrigued from his animated stories about the Dead. John was so good at describing his escapades with the band that they had left a permanent impression. It was those brief encounters that eventually changed my life forever.

During my earlier years of high school, I played a lot of sports. I played football, I was on the varsity wrestling team, and I also played baseball. I was your typical blond-haired, blue-eyed sports jock who was just trying to fit in and get along. But I was always looking for something else. That yearning really became a curiosity of the unknown – especially things I wasn’t allowed to do.

Although I drank a little wine cooler and a beer or two in middle school, things really started to take off my sophomore year of high school. Then I started smoking a bit of weed and drank more alcohol on the weekends, but that was about the extent of my partying. Little by little, I started taking more drugs, listening to more music, and soaking in the Dead culture. It slowly built up until it was all I could think about.

We all forgot about John after my sister and he split a few years later. But I ran into him again, outside our local convenience store. I asked him to buy my friends and me beer, which he was more than happy to do. He invited us back to his place to have a puff and to drink the beer in more-comfortable surroundings than some abandoned parking lot. Being around John again helped me find that unknown thing I wanted. It was the Grateful Dead. He began to turn me on to live shows, telling me long stories about his own experiences with drugs and the band. The more time I spent over at his house, the deeper I got into the scene. And it wasn’t too long after that I got into LSD.

––––––

Some of my closest friends had tried acid and they couldn’t stop raving about it. I was curious, of course, but I was also reluctant. I knew LSD was a big step beyond pot or alcohol.

In the back of my mind, I kept thinking about stories of bad trips and people losing their minds. I also thought about everything parents and teachers had ingrained in me about the dangers of hard drugs like LSD. But I figured teachers and parents said those things to keep us away. My friends loved LSD. And if they turned out OK from doing it, I didn’t see any harm in trying it either.

So, that winter, early in my sophomore year, I decided to take the plunge. One Saturday, with a few very close friends, I took one dose of LSD, and had the first acid trip of my life. It was the catalyst for many good times to come.

When I arrived at my friend’s house, I remember being handed a little dot of blotter paper that had pictures of a little pig on it. I popped the hit onto my tongue and waited for my ride to begin. I wasn’t sure what to expect. When the blotter paper hit my tongue, I was surprised that there was no taste. I sucked on the little piece of paper and tried to extract everything I could from it, before swallowing it. The dosage I took at this time was probably 80 to 100 micrograms of LSD.

As I waited for this magical liquid to get into my bloodstream, we smoked some weed and passed the time until the LSD began to take effect. I still remember it, just like it was yesterday, that tingling feeling for the first time.

LSD does not explode within your body and all of a sudden, bam! you’re high. It starts with a subtle, tingling sensation. You can feel your body going through changes. You get warm all over, and start to feel different.

It’s weird, because you do feel the chemical change in your body. The feelings can vary a bit, but it’s kind of different for everyone, and different kinds of LSD have different effects. I sat there in the chair at my friend’s house, and it seemed to hit us all at the same time. Color spots seemed to appear right before my eyes. If you turned your head, the whole room moved along with you. It was the most incredible sensation I had ever experienced.

It was new, it felt good, and it was like nothing I had ever done before. I was starting to see things and notice subtle changes. Colors were more magnified, and my mind began playing tricks on me.

As the LSD took hold, I began to laugh uncontrollably. I can remember laughing like I had never laughed before. It was awesome. After the laughter, I started hallucinating: chairs and pictures started changing shape, while colors swirled around these melting objects. It felt great, it was fantastic and I didn’t want it to end.

After hours of giggling and more colorful visions, my friends and I took a walk outside in the winter snow. Now that the trip had settled a bit, we wanted to let our LSD trip breathe. I was extremely excited and curious about what kind of visuals my trip would be like outdoors. We all started to bundle ourselves up and got ready to explore this winter wonderland.

As we walked out into the night, I could immediately see the snow glitter like a disco ball at a night club. I never realized snow could be so colorful and beautiful. The colors reflected off the crystals of snow and danced in front of me like a psychedelic rainbow. I breathed the cold air into my lungs, and it filled every cell in my body with life. It felt like I had breathed in a gust of menthol air and it had stuck to my lungs like a glaze. The sensation I was having was sublime. As the snow continued to fall from the sky, the colors reflected off the street lights, and it looked like it was raining crystals of colors. My friends and I shared our individual experiences, and we began to visualize each other’s visions. We could all eventually see each other’s moments of psychedelic silliness and feed into it.

We walked the streets for hours, just amazed by every little thing we encountered, no matter how mundane. Everything we came in contact with became part of our trip, and we could draw some sort of crazy visual from it. The intensity of the LSD and the fun we were having didn’t even make us think twice about the cold that was all around us.

We eventually wandered into a store. The stark reality of everyone in that store being on a totally different plane completely fucked with our heads. We were so high that dealing with reality became an obstacle. We became paralyzed by the store’s bright lights; it was like time stopped. All common sense, all dealing with reality, left our bodies like a whisper in the wind. The different colors and lights of the store were too intense, and we all ran out laughing. The clerk must have thought we were nuts. We didn’t try to go into another store for the rest of the night.

Later that night, as I lay awake in bed, I could see crazy patterns of colors, like a wild arcade game continuously playing through my mind. It didn’t matter. I had just had an amazing time.

I was hooked, and from that point on, I wanted to do more and more LSD. I wanted to explore it as far as I could, see how far it would take me. I had only done one hit, but I began to think, What if I did two or three hits at the same time? The borders were endless, and I was grinning at the thought. I couldn’t wait until I could do it again.

Chapter 2

THE BUS DROVE BY, AND I GOT ON MY FIRST SHOW- BUFFALO, N.Y., 1993

I was about to go to my first Grateful Dead show, ever, at Rich Stadium in Buffalo, N.Y., June 13, 1993. The stadium was about a 30-minute drive from my hometown, Amherst. By that time I was hooked on the music, the community. The peace, love, and partying was where I wanted to be. My sister’s ex-boyfriend John invited me to join him and his friends, who were an interesting cast of characters, for the show.

John was the first of the interesting characters, to say the least. He was six years older than me, about 5’ 7" tall, blue eyes and black curly hair in a semi-mullet. He had dropped out of college after only a year, worked odd jobs, and loved the Grateful Dead more than anyone I knew. He welcomed me into his Grateful Dead family of friends and enjoyed sharing all the spoils he had to offer. To me, it was like being a kid with new toys. I was able to enjoy all the party favors I couldn’t access before. We had fun, and he would tell me stories about the Grateful Dead. I always was so interested when he came back from shows or had new live bootleg tapes. Occasionally, I would go over to his house and we would drink, take acid and smoke weed together.

John’s place would always smell of a mixture of marijuana, cigarette smoke, and stale beer. The carpet was stained from bong water spills, which added another musty odor to the pungent smell of his apartment. Grateful Dead posters littered the walls. The house was small, but it had an upstairs with three tiny bedrooms. John had different roommates from time to time; most of them were pretty cool. Occasionally a random drifter would appear, usually shady and strange.

The more time I spent over at his house, the more I got sucked into the Dead. As I began to party more, and spend more time at John’s house, I took a big interest in the music and the scene. In one of our afternoon sessions, John let me know that the Grateful Dead were coming to Buffalo during their summer tour. That was all I needed to hear: it would be my first show, and one for the ages. My parents pushed back initially, but in the end they knew they couldn’t keep me away.

John offered to buy me a ticket and let me hang with his close group of Dead Heads all day. I had shown a lot of interest in the band, and it was finally time for me to experience the real thing. I realized how lucky I was to be part of the show. Some of my friend’s parents wouldn’t let them go, and they were pretty bummed. Most of our parents knew what went on at Grateful Dead concerts and forbade their kids from going anywhere near that scene.

On the day of the show, I showered, and put on my best tie-dyed shirt and favorite jean shorts. My mom wasn’t happy at all. In fact, it was clear she was very upset.

Who are you going to the concert with? she asked. I told her I was going with my usual friends Kid-Visine and Matt. There was no way I could tell her the truth – she would have killed me or called the police if she knew I was going with John. She told me to be careful, and to come home right after the show. I had high school exams the next day, and she didn’t want me to be a mess.

I won’t be too late, don’t worry! I yelled as I walked out the door. As the sun hit my face and the warm summer air filled my lungs, I knew it was going to be a day to remember.

I took the 10-minute walk to John’s house and found a handful of people already drinking beer and smoking weed. Everyone seemed to be in a great mood, and I wanted to join in. I was amazed by all the excitement, and began to join in the festivities. I quickly started taking bong hits and drinking beer with the others. Although I was getting pretty fucked up, and fast, I was really enjoying myself. It felt like I had been waiting for this day my whole life.

I had heard about all the fun and the big partying that was involved with seeing the Grateful Dead. Now I was finally a part of it. I sat on John’s couch thinking about what my mom had just told me. I felt a bit bad about lying to her about who I was really going with, but this was something I badly wanted to experience. I had boarded the bus and was ready for my first destination.

When it was time to go to the show, we packed up and jumped in several cars. When we got to the stadium, it was nothing like I had ever seen. I had been to big rock concerts, but nothing like this. There were thousands upon thousands of people outside the stadium. Locals who lived near the stadium were opening up their front yards and charging $5 to $10 for all-day parking. It was crazy. There was a sea of Dead Heads as far as the eye could see, partying, smoking weed out in the open without a care in the world. Grateful Dead music was playing from every direction, and people were trading different goods and looking for extra tickets. It was truly a free-for-all. You could have anything if you had the money to pay for it.

I could smell all the different aromas in the air. Marijuana being burned, barbequing meat, and hippies who smelled of some strange fragrance. It was a smorgasbord of sights, smells and sounds, and my senses were trying to take it all in. The sounds of the music and chattering coming from all different directions was intense. I couldn’t wait to be swallowed up into it.

John and I walked through the parking lot to what’s known as Shakedown Street. Named after a Grateful Dead song, Shake Down Street is the main artery for people to sell and buy goods. It was like a long road with many different shops selling T-shirts, jewelry, food, and booze. You could also hear people whispering about illegal goods for sale too. You name it; it was on Shakedown Street. It was a great place to check out what was happening, find what you needed or meet up with friends.

As we walked along, John bought me a beer so we could keep our buzz going and cool down from the heat. I asked John if he knew anyone who was selling LSD. John replied, Sure buddy, I think I know someone who can help. Just wait until I see him – which should be soon. He eventually hooked me up with a friend of his named Timmy. Timmy had what I needed.

Timmy was one of the many eclectic characters who were friends with John. He kind of looked like Animal from the Muppets, except with longer, stringier and greasier hair. He was pretty wild and abstract. Timmy had a reputation of being addicted to anything that would give you a buzz. He also often had conversations with himself from time to time, and his temper was unpredictable. I had met him several times and he seemed OK with me. I was a bit intimidated by him, but he was the man who was going to hook me up.

John told Timmy what I was looking for. Timmy looked at me and said, Follow me behind those cars over there and I’ll hook you up. I scurried off with him, and we were lost behind an assortment of cars. Timmy seemed very disoriented, and he quickly let me know he was tripping himself already. He said, Man, I’ve taken about 10 of these fuckers, and they’re tripping me out. I couldn’t believe someone could take 10 hits of LSD and still be walking. He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and tore off 15 doses of LSD for me. It seemed he had a lot, and he didn’t mind selling me more than I needed. Timmy put the doses into my hand and they felt wet. I asked him, Why is the paper still wet? Timmy replied, This has just been dipped and they’re real fresh. I couldn’t have been more excited.

I ran back to tell John about the doses of LSD that had just been dipped. John laughed and quipped, They are still wet because Timmy probably licked them! I didn’t want to believe it and I said, Really? John said, Sure, he’s a freak like that. In fact, he’s done it before. I didn’t want to think about it and just put that thought out of my head.

I pulled the bag from my pocket and looked at the doses carefully. Each tab had a picture of a snowman on them. At the time, I wasn’t concerned about the quality. I only cared if it worked and the LSD was real. I would have believed anything anyone told me about LSD or marijuana. I was just happy to have bought some for the first time, and excited I was going to be able to trip for my first Grateful Dead show.

Sting was opening for the Grateful Dead, and we all wanted to see part of his act. When we finally got into the stadium, the seats weren’t full, and people were still pouring in. Many of the fans were still outside in the lot either waiting until the Grateful Dead went on, trying to find a ticket, or trying to make that last sale, make as much as they could before entering.

We wandered around the stadium, searching for a good place to watch the show. We found some seats in a good spot on the right side of the stage. I took out three Snowmen from the baggy that had been in my pocket and popped them in my mouth. I sucked on them intensely, trying to get every bit of LSD out before swallowing. The three tabs probably amounted to about 200 to 300 micrograms of LSD, a big jump from what I had done before.

Sting was already playing, so I watched and waited for the LSD to kick in. All of a sudden, Jerry Garcia walked out onto the stage. He joined Sting playing a Beatles tune – and a load roar erupted from the stadium floor. It was a rare opening-act appearance by Garcia, and the fans knew it.

After Sting left the stage, I felt the chemicals running through my body. The acid was getting me high quicker and stronger than I had felt before. Heat waves rushed through my body, and spots of colors were starting to flash before my eyes. I was a bit nervous and unsure about the feelings, starting to break out into a cold sweat. That made me anxious. This high was not the fun and happy feeling of before. This trip felt a bit darker and stronger, and it was coming on at full speed.

As the LSD began to take over my body and mind, the Grateful Dead walked out on stage and began to play. Touch of Grey was the opener, and as a song I knew well, it was a nice distraction to the heavy trip. But the LSD was consuming me, and that’s when I knew I was in trouble. The rush of the high was coming on so fast that I couldn’t think clearly. I slowly stood on my feet and tried to dance along with the others. That made me feel a bit better, but the trip was still coming on like snakes released from a basket and I was worried.

The first few songs ended, which let me sit to catch my breath. I was heavily dosed and trying to get a grip on what was happening to me and around me. My friends were nearby, but they were too consumed with the music to notice what a difficult time I was having. I knew I was alone, and would have to handle this heavy LSD trip by myself. John looked at me and continued to dance. Inside I was begging for him to tell me that it would be alright. But there was nothing.

The concrete beneath my feet was racing with colors and strange patterns. The dancing bears of the Grateful Dead emerged, holding hands, spinning in circles, and moving so fast they were making me dizzy. I looked up because the ground was tripping me out. The visuals were more intense then I had ever experienced, and my body felt uneasy. I glanced up at the guy in front of me. He was wearing a T-shirt with a Grateful Dead logo of a skeleton, dressed as a court jester named Graphix. The cartoon on his shirt started to dance for me, laughing at me, mocking me. That brought on cold sweats again, and I descended deeper into my dark and heavy trip. I needed to get things under control and thought to myself: This is just a drug and it’ll soon wear off - you just need to breathe and relax. At what seemed to be that exact moment, another song started to play that I knew: Tennessee Jed. The sound of a song I liked a lot helped me to turn my attention away from my mental state. I was able to check back into reality for a bit.

When I looked up and around the stadium, it felt like I was in a psychedelic fog. Everything was changing shape and moving quicker than it really was. I had a sour, chemical taste in my mouth, and it made me feel nauseous. The first set ended, and I was a mess. John finally turned to me and said, Are you alright? I told him, I’m tripping pretty hard, but I think I’ll be OK. I was lying, not wanting to be a rookie who couldn’t handle his first show. John looked at me and laughed. He knew I was lit up like a candle. He reached down and said, Grab my hand. We’re going to move onto the stadium floor and watch the second set from there. We stood up and walked down to ground level, and the general seating. John wanted to get a bit closer for the second part of the show.

The first set was a total blur, and I was still trying to get a grip of what was happening as we moved. There were hot, sweaty hippies walking, talking, smoking cigarettes and smoking weed all around me. The smell was making me nauseous as we meandered through the crowd, and suddenly I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I puked all over the place. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed. I could hear people mumbling around me. I just wanted the trip to be over, to be away from the madness.

As I stood on the stadium floor feeling like death, the second set started with Samson and Delilah, a rollicking song with biblical overtones. This was another song I liked a lot, but my mind and body were too far gone for me to enjoy it. After a few more songs, the band faded into the Drums/Space part of the show, an interlude of music that’s played at every show in the middle of the second set. In Drums, the drummers or rhythm devils take over and pound on their skins. They play on many different types of drums, creating loud and powerful beats. The Space part of the show is where the darkness takes over. After the drums fade away, Bobby, Jerry, Phil and Vince come back on stage and create eerie sounds and psychedelic swirls with their instruments. They create the sounds of what deep space would sound like. The haunting, jagged sounds of Space were totally messing with me. This was not the Grateful Dead experience I had been looking for.

When the show ended, we shuffled out into the parking lot like a massive herd of cattle. People were talking about the highs and lows of the night’s performance, but I wasn’t able to join in. I was a tripping, nauseous mess, and just wanted the high to be done with. The parking lot was coming alive again, and Shakedown Street was setting up shop again. I was cold, sick, miserable, and still very, very high on LSD. I lay on the ground, wrapped up in a plastic tarp that one of John’s friends had given me to keep warm. Nothing to do but wait it out until everyone was ready to leave.

John and his friends finally had enough, and we shuffled into the car and began the ride home. Once home, I rolled my miserable self into bed, closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Under my eyelids, rushes of colors and patterns flooded my vision. I was still tripping my face off, and I could feel and hear my heart beat like a loud drum. I was going to be totally fucked for my exam the next day.

When morning came, I was still a mess. My eyes were bloodshot and I looked like shit. I showered, didn’t eat and then stumbled out the door. I couldn’t even look my mom in the eye before I left the house. She was clearly trying to get a look at me, but it wasn’t going to happen.

At school, I went into the classroom for my exam. I asked the teacher if I could have a garbage can next to me because I didn’t feel well. The teaching assistant knew all too well where I was the night before and shook her head. My eyes were shot and puffy, and I was as white as a ghost. About half way through the exam I vomited into the garbage can next to me. Everyone looked at me, of course, and I just tried not to acknowledge them. I finished the exam and left. A week later, I found out I failed the exam miserably. It was a mess. And that was just the beginning of my Grateful Dead adventure.

Rich Stadium Buffalo, N.Y., June 13, 1993

Chapter 3

THE FRIEND OF THE DEVIL IS A FRIEND OF MINE

I wouldn’t see another Dead show until spring tour 1994. In the meantime, to kill the mundane rituals of school and teenage life my friends and I would get drunk, smoke weed, and trip on LSD. These were typical times for typical suburban kids. Along the way, I met a local legend, Frog. This wasn’t his real name of course, and I’ll keep using his nickname to protect the not-so-innocent.

Frog was from the older generation of Grateful Dead heads. He started seeing them in the mid-‘70s, and he hadn’t stopped. He had more than 500 Grateful Dead shows under his belt, an amazing feat to me at the time, having just seen one. Through the years, he eventually got close to Jerry Garcia himself and spent a lot of time hanging out with him. Frog and Jerry shared the same love of heroin and would often indulge in it together, especially during 1984-86 tours. This partnership wouldn’t last forever, and a few years later, Jerry’s inner circle kept Frog away because he was a bad influence.

The first time I met Frog was at the corner of a food mart in my hometown. Frog happened to park his car next to John’s, and when Frog stepped from his car, he said hello. The both of them knew each other a bit and they chatted for a few minutes. Frog looked like a normal, everyday person. He was short, about 5’6", short black hair that had a bowl cut kind of look. He looked much older than John, and I guessed he had to be in his 40s. The wrinkles around his eyes were telltale signs of his age. Looking at him for the first time, you wouldn’t have guessed that he had been touring the Grateful Dead and partying so hard for so many years.

Frog peered into the car and asked me, Do you like The Grateful Dead? It was an emphatic answer, Yes, I do. Frog laughed and then said, If you ever want to puff or borrow some live shows, get my number from John and give me a call.

I asked John about him, and he gave me Frog’s backstory. John explained that Frog basically had issues with drugs, particularly with heroin. The man had seen 500 Grateful Dead shows. You do not walk away from seeing 500 shows without at least a few issues. What I was more worried about was that Frog was some kind of molester or weirdo, but John assured me he was cool. He had just been on tour a little too long, and the drugs had taken their toll on him.

When I first started hanging out with Frog, we would smoke joints, and he would let me borrow Grateful Dead shows on tape. He also told me stories. Frog would talk about hanging out with Dan Healey, the Grateful Dead sound man back in the day. While Dan Healey was handling the sound for the band, Frog was often invited to keep him company on the soundboard stage during shows in 1984, and would ingest huge lines of cocaine.

Frog would also tell me stories about hanging out with Jerry in his hotel room before and after shows. One time Frog explained to me a story and said, Jerry liked his drugs. He loved to smoke tar heroin and at the same time mix a little rock cocaine with it. One time we were hanging out in his room before a show, and he told me that he liked the effect the two drugs gave him when they were mixed together. Jerry loved the euphoric buzz from one and the speed rush from the other. I guess the two balanced each other out perfectly.

He told me that back in 1984 and 1985, Jerry sometimes wouldn’t go on stage unless he was high. Frog said to me, One time, right before a show, Jerry was about to smoke some heroin before going on stage, but he didn’t have any coke to mix it with. Jerry was a bit upset and wouldn’t go on stage unless he had the coke to mix with the heroin. So he sent me looking for some. I had to run around and find one of my tour friends in the audience who had some coke. Well, eventually I found some. I got the coke back stage and Jerry was able to get what he wanted, and the show went on.

It’s no secret that Jerry Garcia had addiction problems, especially during those years. It was just amazing to hear this first-hand, from someone who had gone through it with Jerry Garcia himself.

It was really fascinating hearing about his tour days and partying with Jerry Garcia. I was so young, hungry, and wanted to learn everything about the Grateful Dead. Frog was also slowly introducing me to some of his other friends from Amherst, Clarence and other surrounding areas. A bigger door was opening up for me, and beyond it was a world I never could have imagined.

Chapter 4

BEFORE WE SLIP INTO THE NIGHT, YOU’LL WANT SOMETHING TO DRINK PHISH SUMMER TOUR 1993

Early August 1993, I happened to get tickets to a Phish concert. I had just recently started listening to them, but I didn’t really know much about them musically or as a band. It was summer vacation, and going to see a concert was always fun, especially with my friends. I didn’t know what to expect from this band live, but my friends were raving about them, and I always trusted their judgment.