I Feel the Feeling I Forgot

I hadn’t pressed refresh that many times since Phish announced its final tour date. In fact, I think I forgot the feeling entirely: the excitement of piecing together an entire summer simply through rumors, the anticipation of waiting for a webpage to solidify those rumors into an official announcement, the fear that other “trivial” plans would conflict with that tour.

It’s always a great time of the year, tour announcement day. Friends emerge from the woodwork, AIM windows flicker at epileptic speed and the giddy, adolescent bounce I all too often suppress launches into full Greenhaus effect (sorry for the poor pun, I seriously haven’t slept since 1997). If you’re compulsive like me, you reach the point where you’ve pressed refresh so many times you start to notice the little details on a webpage slowly changing, sculpting.

And then, when you least expect it, you click refresh one final time and the rollercoaster begins. The dates are in, the message boards are alive, Phish is reuniting---kind of---backed by the Benevento/Russo Duo. Random thoughts run through my brain: I could take a day off from work here, make a long weekend there; fly home from California through Hartford to catch an extra show, run out of a friend’s wedding early to make it to Bethel by set time. Within seconds, three weeks of my life took shape.

For about ten minutes nothing else seemed to mater: not the overdue article sitting idly my screen, not the companionship of a new female friend and certainly not the half-empty glass of chocolate milk on my desk. I called Benjy, assuming he too had already sublet his house for the summer, posted a news bit on Relix and, actually, MapQuested the possibility of making it to Bethel, NY without missing a beat (ya know Eve and Evan would understand)

But, then, something really odd happened. Instead of lying awake all night, plotting my summer journey, my mind began to drift and an odd emotional reality set in. I began to think about life’s other obstacles, as well as its gifts. I didn’t want to rearrange my entire summer, to skip out on my other plans. In fact, it had already been a pretty darn good day in the life of Mikey Greenhaus. I had lunch with an old friend, walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, and geeked out about Garden State.

When former classmates ask me what I’ve been up to since college, my stock response is that I segued from Skidmore to Phish tour to crazy neurotic Jewish girl tour to, finally, work tour. It’s a pretty natural progression, I guess. In general, I’m the type of person who needs something to obsess about, to be excited about . Otherwise, my mind begins to wander. I think Phish was the training wheels for that style of aggressive procrastination.

Oddly enough, jam-nation is the one place my latent Westchester cutthroat ambition shows its ugly I-Banker head. I’ve never been good at working my way up the corporate ladder, but I’m always able to get tickets in time, to organize an expedition onto the floor.

About a month after Phish parted ways, I took a girl to see Trey perform with the Vermont Youth Symphony. I consider it one of the defining moments in my concert going career (and no I did not get laid that night. Alas!). Trey played “Flock of Words,”I looked left and sadly smiled. An odd-pressure had been lifted, the fear that I’d miss the show, the night they broke-out the song. But, at the same time, other bands, other people, would still make me feel the same way. Happy.

See you all at Jones Beach on July 7.

I'm floating in the Blympalot
I feel the feeling I forgot
Swimming weightless in the womb
Bouncing gently round the room
In a minute I'll be free
And we'll be splashing in the sea

I feel no curiosity
I see the path ahead of me
In a minute I'll be free
And we'll be splashing in the sea
We hear a tiny cry
As the ship goes sliding by
-Phish, 1995