by Dean Budnick
(So we can meet him?)
“Uhhh, no…”
(Well then how about Jerry Garcia. Can we meet him?)
(Beth!)
(Well can we?)
“No, I’m afraid—”
(Well who can we meet? How about one of the drummers, they ‘re cool.)
“No, no. I don’t think you understand. By the full tour I mean the full tour of the taping section and my taping gear.”
(Ohhhh.)
(Ohhhh.)
(Wait, so you ARE a taper.)
“That’s right.”
(And you work for the band.)
“No, I work for a town in Maine.”
(What does Maine have to do with the Grateful Dead?)
“Not much. They haven’t been there since Oxford.”
(What?)
(So you work for the Grateful Dead in Maine?)
“No, I…wait you think that I work for the band because I’m a taper?”
(That’s what this friend of ours said.)
(Yeah, he said you get special passes and that sort of thing.)
“Well we do get tapers’ tickets from the band through mail order that allow us to bring in our equipment. We have to pass through a special line just for tapers to get into the show. But that’s all the special attention we get. I guess you’d say that we’re freelancers, taping for our own personal reasons. I don’t know if Rez-Kathy told you but the two of us have been doing this for a while. Back in the old days they didn’t have this special area for tapers, everyone had to do the best they could. It was a lot harder too. The band didn’t care so much but the venues would sometimes pitch a fit. So we had to come up with all sorts of creative ways to get our equipment into the shows and then to run tape. For instance, a couple times I pretended I had a broken leg and we put our gear in this hollowed-out cast. On a few other occasions Rez—I mean Kathy—pretended she was pregnant and… You see, I had a big analog deck back then, or at least big by comparison to what I have today. I assume that analog is the format that you have at home. Yes?”
(Well I have a CD player.)
(Me too. And a radio. And a tape deck.)
“Right, the tape deck. That’s analog, correct? I mean it takes your average everyday standard cassettes? “
(I guess.)
(Me too.)
“The problem with analog is that the tapes last forty-five minutes per side—actually a little closer to forty-seven, which becomes an issue if you’re taping because the Grateful Dead play for much longer than that, which means that you need to flip the tapes during the set which can become a real pain. You also have to do it towards the end of those forty-six minutes because the longer you let the tape record on one side, the longer you’ll be able to record on the other side since there’s no time to rewind. Plus the Grateful Dead don’t always stop between songs, which can make it a challenge to determine the ideal moment to flip. Of course sometimes they take far too long because they can’t figure out what to play. That all disappears with Digital Audio Tape. There’s no flip with DATs because you can only record on one side but a 60-meter tape lasts 120 minutes. A 90m lasts 180 minutes but I wouldn’t recommend those because the tape itself is thinner and DAT recorders can be fickle, generating error codes and shutting down for anything from dust molecules to dampness.”
(So there’s no chance you can introduce us to Bob Weir?)
“No, sorry.”
(Can you introduce us to anyone in the Grateful Dead?)
“Again, sorry. Actually, I might be able to introduce you to the man who engineers their sound. Would you like to meet him?”
(Have you ever met Bob Weir?)
“No, I can’t say that I have.”
(How about Jerry Garcia?)
“No. Although now that you mention it I did spend some time with MG once. Mountain Girl. Although come to think of it, they should start calling her MW for Mountain Woman.”
(She’s not in the Grateful Dead.)
(Yes she is. She’s that woman who used to sing with them.)
“No, that was Donna. Mountain Girl is a Prankster though. And I’m pretty sure she’s still married to Jerry.”
(But she’s not in the Grateful Dead?)
“No.”
(Why are you so interested in taping them if you’ve never met them?)
(Yeah, isn’t that weird?)
“Well—”
(Especially since you’re not an employee or anything. You’re just this guy who follows them around with a microphone.)
(Yeah, isn’t that weird?)
“You know Rez and I don’t have any kids.”
(No doy.)
(Yeah, no doy.)
STEVEN
(Do you go to Willington?)
“Yeah. Why?”
(I thought I recognized you. I’m Casey. Kevin Casey. Do you remember me? I knew your sister.)
“Yeah, you’re a legend.”
No shit. Casey Jones himself. In the flesh.
(I mean I still know your sister. I just saw her a couple weeks ago. I’m at Columbia and we have this crazy party house, with all of these bands playing our block parties who are embodying the spirit of the Grateful Dead. They are keeping the flame alive and it is ablaze! We are high minded! And there’s a crazy, crazy new club that opened downtown, this hippie mecca, where you can burn one in the basement and then shake your bones in the sweat lodge upstairs to the latest psychedelic sounds. Better off Dead!)
“That sounds awesome. You know, we’re totally keeping things blazing back at the big W.”
(As long as the shrine survives. You dig?)
“Uh-yeah, yeah.”
(It’s a hand-me-down but the heart has its beaches.)
“Right.”
(Although the shrine demands an offering, a sharing of the wine, dig?)
“Absolutely.”
What?
(I don’t mean to dominate the rap, Jack. But that’s on you.)
“Um, sure—”
(Because the Shrine—wait, are you a senior?)
“Junior.”
(Arrggh! I am a useless smile. Let the words be yours I’m done with mine…)
“Wait! Where? What?”
(Oh yeah and say hi to your sister for me…)
BAGEL BOB
(What the hell?)
“A quake! Quick, to the doorframe!”
(That’s no quake. No, it is a quake but it’s not an earthquake, it’s a camperquake and it’s not natural. It’s man-made. Or woman-made. Hey! What are you doing?)
(We want to find the guy who sold us this bunk fucking shit.)
(Hold on, hold on I’m coming out. What do you want? Hey! And get him off there!)
(Joey, get off! We want to find the guy who sold us this bunk fucking shit.)
(So why are you shaking my van?)
(We think it might be you.)
(So you climbed on my house?)
(Well somebody sold us these counterfeit mushrooms.)
(Counterfeit?)
“Caveat emptor!”
(What’s that?)
“Caveat emptor when judging a spore!”
(What are you saying?)
“Simple psilocybin jurisprudence. Since psilocybin has been prohibited by statutory means, the transgressor must appeal to the archaic realm of English Common law. Court of Exchequer… Or is it the Court of Common Pleas. Which is it, Bob forgets. Do either of you recall which is proper?”
(Is he tripping or something?)
(Just over his tongue.)
“Are Bob or Michael responsible for your consumer fraud?”
(I guess not.)
“Then perhaps it would be wise to locate the perpetrators and prevent them from further wrongdoing. But shake no mor
e domiciles until you familiarize yourself with the proper precedents…and their occupants. Caveat Emptor! Bonam Fortunam!”
(Joey, man, let’s just move on…)
(Wow, Robert. I mean, wow. One beautiful thing about you, is that sometimes I’m not entirely certain when you’re full of shit.)
“A more beautiful thing is that neither is Bob.”
ZEB
(I didn’t mean to insult you by calling you a Touchhead, we all have to start somewhere.)
“It’s all good, brother. Most of us here were touched in the head.”
(Point well made. I mean everyone starts out as like a non-Head or let’s say a shrunken Head. It’s what happens next that matters. Some of us get on the bus…)
“Right on.”
(It shouldn’t matter when that happens. For me in was the early 80s, for you, let’s just say you’re In The Darker than me.)
“Dude…”
(And that’s not meant to be racist. I mean we’re both healthy, hearty Caucasians right? I mean the two of us, not the other 99% of the people in here who are healthy, hearty Caucasians.)
“Right…”
(That’s what I figured. It’s hard to tell, you’ve got that patina of dust on you from the lot. I don’t want you to think I intended to insult you because of your ethnic origins.”
“No…”
(When in reality I intended to insult you because of how long you’ve been seeing the Grateful Dead…)
“Come on, Craig.”
(Just kidding. I kid because I care. By that I mean I care about what’s happening out there. Too much excess. I’m all for excess in here but excess out there, just doesn’t do it for me. That’s why we can’t do back to Providence or Worcester or Richmond where I saw my first show. When was your first show, if you don’t mind my asking. Some people get all in a huff about that question, like I’m crossing some boundary and asking them when they lost their virginity. I just don’t see it that way and frankly, not to be cruel about it, plenty of those dudes out there probably saw their first show before they lost their virginity. Am I rambling? Did I mention that I smoked some dyno doojie in order to cut the line?)
“I believe you did.”
(So when was your first show, again?)
“I haven’t told you yet but I’m happy to do so. March twenty-fourth, nineteen-eighty-eight, the Omni in Atlanta.”
(Well you certainly are a Touchhead. I’m not trying to be insulting, think of me as your ace cub reporter here, just laying out the facts. Actually you’re almost a post-Touchhead because when I think of Touchheads, I think of people who started touring in 1987 after ‘Touch of Grey’ became popular. Spring tour ‘88 had some fine moments though. ‘So What’ and ‘Thin Man’ in Hampton, the ‘Louie Louie’ bustout in Hartford. I have that whole tour on DAT. Crispy delights, first gens from the masters.)
“I was at Hampton and Hartford. I held my breath and jumped into the deep end. I did most of that tour. I had to break off after the Centrum shows, though. I was surprised I ever made it that far.”
(It always seems easier than it is. That’s why the whole Day of the Dead thing just crushed us. Too many people thinking they needed to be here. And again, not in here but out there. I can’t believe the Dead even allowed MTV to do that. But that’s when the train first jumped the tracks, back in ’87. I imagine that’s how you got the Dead bug, even if you didn’t see your first show for an entire year later.)
“MTV? Craig, in my house we don’t even have cable.”
(Still, MTV has trained your entire generation. It’s all about sharp cuts and immediate gratification.)
“So didn’t grow up with MTV?”
(It didn’t come to my town until I was a freshman in college. So it’s not steeped in my soul, corrupting everything like it did with your peers. It’s not your fault, I don’t blame you, just like I don’t blame you for being a Touchhead. You can’t help how old you are.)
“And how old are you?”
(I’m a grand old man of twenty-six. And a half.)
ROBIN
Whattodo, whattodo…
So warm…
Water!
Have a drink, clean hair, have a drink…
Womensroom,…
“Womensroom?”
(That way?)
So many colors, people colors.
Smiling colors.
Smiling people.
“Womensroom?”
(Ooh, you look like you can use it. Over there. The line’s really, really long, though…)
“Thankyou!”
Hmmmm
Where
“Womensroom? Womensroom?”
(Hi. It’s around that corner. Can you see it over there?)
Ummmmmm
“Ummmmmmm…”
(No, that’s okay. I’ve been where you are. So trust me on this, woman to woman, Deadhead to Deadhead. Go down those stairs, and then take a left. You’ll pass the entry points to about four or five sections and then you can find the special bathroom. It’s somewhat hidden in the corner of the hallway but it’s well worth it. I never seen anything like it. You’ll fly in and out. It can be a bit intense though.)
“Special? Intense?”
(What do you say, Katie, quick escort mission?)
(Fine, she seems a bit spun around and a bit—)
(Spun around. Agreed. What’s your name?)
“Robin.”
(Okay, Robin, take my hand and come with us. We’re going to take you to this one woman’s room, run by the stall sergeant. It’s, what the right word, Katie?)
(Efficient.)
(That’s exactly the word. We’ve never seen anything like it.)
(It’s down the stairs on the next level…)
(We’ll take you there. You’re part of the stall sisterhood now…)
“Stall sisterhood! Hahhaa!”
(Okay, hold on, we’re headed down the stairs. Take it easy…easy…one at a time…)
Oneatatime… Oneatatime…
(There you go…good…good… Good!)
(Now as a member of the stall sisterhood, you have to promise to share this info on another night with another dosed female Deadhead. And offer whatever assistance might be required. Agreed?)
“Yaaa… Hahahaha… Sissy-terhood!… Haaaaaa!”
(What’s that?)
“Haaaahaaa… Sissy-terhood.”
(What?)
(I think it’s a variation on your joke, which was Tinkle-belles, remember?)
“Uhhaaaaahhhaa! TINKLE-BELLES!!”
(Shhhhhh, try not to call too much attention to yourself, no need to alert security that you have to urinate…)
(She’s just kidding.)
(Come on, you gotta let me toy with the dosed girl a little. She doesn’t mind. You don’t mind do you?)
“Tinkle-belles! Haaaa…”
(I don’t think she minds.)
(It’s all fun and games until someone makes wee-wee while walking.)
(Urine, I’m out.)
“Tinkle—hahahaa—snort.”
(Okay, okay, hold on, we’re almost there…)
(Come up, keep on keeping on…)
(But keep it in.)
(Almost there, Sissy-ter.)
“Hahaaa…”
(Okay, here we are. We’re not going in with you. Look over there, see the line, it’s really short and it moves really quickly. No other women’s room in this place is anything like this but you have to listen to the stall sergeant.)
“Thankyou…”
(You go, girl!)
(Seriously, you go, girl. And then hit that sink…)
“Thankyou…
(Our pleasure, Tinkle-belle!)
“Haaaaahaaaaa-snort”
Haaaaa
a
(Four to the left! Three to the right! Six to the right! Let’s go ladies!)
Huh?
(Three to the left! Five to the left!)
Hmm…line moving…moving…
(Five to the right?)
Huh?
Line moving…
Almost there…
(Maintain the flow. That’s true of everyone on all sides of the stalls. We can’t fall apart here, ladies. And don’t forget to wash your hands!)
Almost there…
(Two to the left! Three to the right! Nice efficiency, former three to the right!)
Huh?
Ohhh, stall sergeant. What’s my number? What’s my number?
“Excuse me, whatsmynumber?”
(What?)
“Whatsmynumber?)
(No, you don’t have numbers, the stalls have numbers on them can you see? That woman, the one in charge, the mad genius who works for this place has taped those numbers onto them, one through six on either side of the room as you’re facing in, left and right.)
Eyesblurry…
(One to the right! Six to the left! Wash your hands ladies, don’t forget!)
Gettingclose gettingclose
(Two to the right! Six to the right!)
(This place is amazing.)
(I’m gonna hire her for my sorority house.)
(I’m gonna hire her for my office.)
(I’m gonna hire her for my beach house.)
(Five to the left! Five to the right!)
Which?
Which?
(Come on, you in front! Five to the left! Five to the right!)
“Which?”
(Either, both, whatever you want! Come on we have to keep this moving. Five to the left! Five to the right!)
Tooconfused nonono.
(Let’s go, ladies. Five to the left! Five to the right!)
(Either you’re on the seat or you’re off the seat…)
(Oh-ohh, we’re losing her.)
(Let’s go, ladies. The pressure is on but thankfully you can relieve that pressure… Five to the left! Five to the right!)
Ummmmmm.
Notsure notsure.
Nooooo.
(Another dosed dropout. She panicked and had the same problem as that girl over there…)