by Dean Budnick
“Vavoooooooom!”
(Jeereeeeeeeeh!)
“Buhbuh-beeeeeeeee!”
(There. There they are.)
“They’re ba-ack.”
(Uh-huh.)
“Uh-huh. Nice Dew Jer, nice Dew.”
(Uhhhh-huuuhhh nice Dew, Jer. Nice hair-dooooooo!)
“Hahhahahaaa… What?… Sugarmags! SUGAR MAGS!”
(Sugar Mags! YEahaaahaaahhhhh!)
“Back out! Move back out!”
(Back back back!)
“Sugar Mags. Sugar Mags. Su-gar Mags.”
(Sweet sweet sweet.)
“Sugar is sweet. Sugar is sweet.”
(The Sweetest.)
RANDY
Schultz is off with waiting with the beer.
There’s Davis idling outside the admin office on his ridiculous golf cart.
Time to make my move.
“Excuse me, sir.”
(You!)
“Listen, I want you to know that I certainly appreciate that you feel I was disrespectful to you. And I also want you to know that I sincerely apologize for anything I said to you that was untrue.)
(Thank you…)
“Ellis.”
(Thank you, Ellis)
“I also have a particular respect for the military, because a football squad is something like an army platoon. And while I haven’t served, I do know some men who have. I think of American heroes like John Winger and Russell Ziskey who earned their stripes and I salute them. Anyhow, while I recognize you’ve made your decision to let me go, I hope you will stop by Mack’s office. I just dropped off a pint of small batch Kentucky bourbon and three boxes of Girl Scout cookies for the two of you to enjoy and possibly reconsider my situation.”
(I don’t cotton to disrespect.)
“I can understand that.”
(Not here and not on the football field. Disrespect will receive no housewarming party in either venue.)
“Agreed.”
(So I make no promises about reassessing your situation.)
“I understand.”
(But you know, Ellis, it’s been long day, and at the very least I promise to receive your offering in the spirit with which it was intended.)
“That’s all I can ask.”
(So why don’t you stop by after the parking lots clear out and we can continue our parley.)
“Why thank you, sir”
Keep walking…keep walking…keep walking…a bit faster…keep walking…Boom!
Sucker!
Key’s still in it!
Gotta motor!
TAPER TED
Rez. Tommy.
“The Gang’s all here!”
(I wouldn’t quite call us gang, we’re more of a pep squad.)
“Little brother, I rarely find you peppy.”
(Then how about this…Kind show, big bro. Kind burrito show. Or should I say killer? I’ll never get the lingo down.)
“You actually do seem chipper. What happened ?”
(Tommy made a friend.)
“Let’s hope it wasn’t a fourteen-year-old. It wasn’t a fourteen-year-old was it?”
(Please give me some credit. It was a fourteen-year-old’s mom.)
“Noohhh.”
(Yes.)
(Yes.)
(She was everything I like in a woman. That ideal mix of beauty, brains and unabashed contempt for most of what she sees.)
“I hope you didn’t do anything stupid that might hurt Rez—”
(He was fine.)
(I was fine. Which reminds me, when I was on my way down here, I saw a few folks writing SSDD on their setlists. What was that?)
“Sunshine Daydream. It’s the epilogue to ‘Sugar Magnolia.’”
(Ahh, I assumed it was same shit different day, which sounds a bit defeatist but that can be my motto for tomorrow.)
“So you’ll coming back tomorrow? I wasn’t quite sure if you’d be on the bus or off the bus.”
(I don’t know about any bus but I’ll be in the luxury suite. Free drinks and hors d’oeuvres. And you know me, I can be something of a hors for the d’oeuvres. Although they did have some chafing dishes with little Grateful Dead insignias on them.)
(Stealies.)
(Which felt a bit like warning labels. Good grub though in spite of it.)
(Speaking of dishes, my darling husband…)
“That’s a weak segue but you’ve earned the right to gloat.”
(You must be off your game, hon, I can’t remember another tour where I’ve clinched so early.)
(And what game is that?)
“It’s our setlist prognostication series—and don’t say ‘You can’t be serious!’”
(Okay, Groucho.)
Oh crap.
There he is.
Just when things were back where they should be.
And I still haven’t spoken with Rez about this.
(What’s wrong big bro, you seem agitated. I was comparing you to a Marx Brother and not even Zeppo, who I think was the handsome one but his name always reminds me a big gassy balloon, so I’ll toss that in as a sideways insult.)
“Listen, Rez, can you break down my gear, there’s someone over there I have to speak with. Tommy, can you go with her? I just need a moment.”
(Who? That guy over there?)
“Tommy, please don’t point.”
(Point at him?)
“Tommy, come on, I told you, this is something private.”
(Okay then, big bro. Calm yourself down. Let me see a blank expression on your face.)
“I’ll do what I can.”
(Just be zen about it. Have your brain create a blank canvas.)
“Why do I have the feeling you’re trying to tell me something?”
(Because your mind has gone blank?)
“Tommy!”
(Take it easy on me. If you really want me out of your prematurely receding hair you’re going to have to write me a blank check.”
“TOMMY!”
(Don’t push me too far, don’t make me resort to…wait for it…wait for it…)
“Blankmail.”
(You didn’t wait for it.)
(Ted…)
(Mitch.)
(Ted…)
(Reg…)
(Ted…)
(Rez…)
(Taper Ted, welcome to April Fools’ Day, Deadhead style.)
“But it’s March twenty-ninth.”
(That’s why it’s Deadhead style. We’re never on time. Usually we’re late. But sometimes we’re early because Deadheads are space cases and time is an illusion anyhow.)
“So what’s the story with Chuck?”
(We’ll explain it all outside. There’s still some of this we need to keep close to the vest.)
(Which may be challenge for you big bro, because your vest doesn’t quite fit the way it should. But as your doctor…)
ZEB
(Hey, wait, hold on, hold on!)
“Craig, I gotta haul ass out to the lot…”
(I know, I just wanna go on the record and apologize if I oversold ’85. Sometimes that’s how it goes. Richmond ’85 was my first show, so sometimes, I go a little over the top with my praise. Especially after burning some of my heroic hoobah.)
“No, no. You know of what you speak. I’ve heard that show…”
(Yeah, like I said, I don’t think I fully appreciated it until a few years later. I bet the same thing will happen to you, when you’ve been out here a bit longer.)
“Right on.”
(I also want you to know I’m rethinking my first Jerry question too. Maybe I don’t need to start off with something quite so calculated or maybe my calculations are off and I should get right to the meat a
nd potatoes, or the ‘Stephen’ and the ‘Cryptical,’ as it were.)
“Right on.”
(So you’ll be out there tomorrow?)
“Out there is where I will be.”
(Look for me. If we see each other, I might even be able to kick you a ticket. Not the lame seat you traded me but another sweet one by my side. The envelope art did it again. Saturday night I’m seventh row.)
“If you already have Saturday seats then why’d you want to trade with me in the first place?”
(I had an extra ticket for tonight and I wanted the company. It’s happened a couple times before. What I’ve come to learn is that someone with a Saturday ticket who understands he can make a trade is usually a Head with his head in the right space, who makes for an enjoyable show buddy. Which you did and you were. Winner winner chicken dinner.)
“Dead ahead, Craig, Dead ahead…”
ROBIN
“Sugar Mags was suh-weeeet! You okkayy?”
(Uhh-huhh. You?)
“Uhhhh-huuuhhh.”
(Head out?)
“Haaaa! HEAD…OUT!!!!”
(Should weeee sitttt?)
“Uhh-huh… Kind kind Dew.”
(Dooooooo!!!)
“Sweet Sugar Mags.”
(Terrrrapiinn TIME!)
“Setlist. Second set. Setlist second set… First song…”
(Okay-okay. Ununmmm—)
“Right. Uhhh-it was-ummmm—”
(First soooonggg. Secondset… Ummmmm—)
(‘Box of Rain.’)
(Ahhhh… THANKYOU!)
“Second song.”
(Second… Bobby…or…Jerry?)
“Second song…”
(Hmmmmm…)
(‘Bertha.’)
“No, second set.”
(Second set.)
(‘Samson.’)
“Thank You!”
(Third song third song third song)
“Third song… Third song…‘Looks Like Rain!’”
(Ro-bin!! ‘Looks Like Rain!’)
“Yeah, Robin looks like Rain!”
(Robin looks like Rain?)
“Wet mop Head!”
(Haaaa! Lemme try some… Mmmmm tasty… Encore hair!”
“Encore hair?”
(Sugary sweet!)
“Ha!”
(And Mountain Dew-y)
“Morning Dew-y”
(Robin double Dew’d it!)
“Robin and Mara double do’d it!”
(Grateful Heads!)
“Forever! Fourth song, fourth song…”
BAGEL BOB
And so Bob returns. Back to his spot. Soliciting concertgoers.
Bob wishes he had been a concertgoer. Bob wishes he had concertwent.
“Blueberry bagels. Stella Blue-berry bagels. Consumer Reports ranks Bob’s bagels as the most nutritious and scrumdelicious on tour.”
(Oh man, I’ve been thinking about this since the second set. I was hoping I’d find you. Your bagels are the most nutritious and scrumdelicious on tour.)
“Bagel Bob appreciates the accolades.”
(Somehow I missed you the past few nights. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve seen you since all the way down at the Miami shows last year. I was feeling a little bit frisky that night and I went for the Loxy Lady. It was quite a revelation Bob. Quite a revelation.)
“Indeed.”
(So what it’ll be for me tonight? I really have been thinking about this since midway through the second set. I started migrating at the end of ‘Sugar Mags.’ I watched ‘Sunshine Daydream’ from the stairs thinking I’d have a better chance to find you before the congestion. I just can’t tell you how good it makes me feel to see you again. You are comfort food. Hmm, maybe I should go for the Simon and Garfunkel. Then again, while I dig the parsley, sage and the rosemary, I’ll end up with too much thyme on my hands.)
(Well done!)
“Ahh, now there’s the answer. Something toasted. I’d like the Elvis, please. A dab of peanut butter, a dollop of honey, light on the bacon, heavy on the bananas.”
“A wise selection. How was your show?”
(It was a weird one for sure. And not in all the right places, at least not at first. Odd vibrations.)
“Bob has lived that sentiment.”
(It seemed that everyone was a little out of sorts, then they made some adjustments and now everything is in its place. But we’ll do it all again tomorrow. That’s the thrill of the game. Forget about me, how was your show?)
“A dab of confrontation with security personnel, a dollop of board games, heavy on the burlesque, a little light on the show.”
(You didn’t make it in?)
“It was a tough ticket.”
(Tomorrow?)
“Another tough ticket.”
(Not for you.)
“Alas, yes.”
(No, not anymore. Thank you for my Elvis. Enjoy tomorrow night’s show. Here’s your money and here’s a ticket. It would be an honor if you actually sit in the seat. I’d love to rap with you. That’s your call, of course, but I’m a fan of your work.)
“Bob is not looking for this.”
(You don’t need a ticket? I’m sorry, I misunderstood.)
“No, Bob is not looking for a free ticket.”
(Well that is my decision. It’ll be a real hoot to be able to say I miracled Bagel Bob.)
“What is your name?”
(I’m Evan.)
“Well Bagel Bob thanks you, Evan. Bagel Bob is moved by your gesture. Bagel Bob will see you inside tomorrow night.”
(My pleasure Bagel Bob. Remember, we are everywhere.)
“We are indeed. And Bob is truly, deeply grateful.”
(No worries, Bagel Bob. No worries.)
TAPER TED
“Okay, we’re out of the building, out of earshot, just who are you?”
(I’m not Chuck from Norfolk. I’m Pete from Petaluma.)
“Pete Sinnegan?”
(C’est moi.)
(You’re the branch ahead of me on the Whole Earth Access tree.)
(That I am. I was going to introduce myself last night but these fine fellow tapers had other ideas.)
(I’d like to give Mitch and myself credit but really, it was Rez…)
(I figured when all was said and done, you’d appreciate a good ol’ April Fool’s prank in the Grateful Dead tradition. We let Tommy in on it in case he saw you interacting with Pete and involved himself in some awkward way.)
“Tommy making things awkward. Gee, I wonder how likely—”
(I was happy to be in on anything that tweaks my big bro, even if I didn’t entirely understand what was going on.)
“Par for your course. Or maybe bogie. Can you be reverent about anything?”
(Believe me, it happens on occasion. One day I’ll surprise you.)
(On that topic of surprising people, we’ll admit, we’re curious. What were you going to do? There also may have been a side bet or two along the way. Were you going to spin the tapes or risk blowing the cover?)
“Tommy, what did you say?”
(I said you’re a man of integrity.)
“Appreciated… So what exactly does that mean?”
(To be honest, I’m not sure, the whole thing seemed a bit complicated. I just said you’re a man of integrity because I wanted you to feel good about yourself, big bro.)
“You’re sweet. But seriously…Rez?”
(Ted, it’s like I explained to your brother a couple years ago when we brought our first cat into the house even though I’m allergic. Tommy said to me, ‘I can’t believe you got that cat for your husband,’ and I told him, ‘Seems like a good trade to me.’)
“Lovely!”
(Sorry, I’m feeling giddy, I can’t believe I clinched the setlist tourney already!)
“Anyone? Pete? Mitch?”
(If I told you all that went down it would burn off both your ears.)
“Really?”
(Now I don’t know but I been told in the heat of the sun a man died of cold.)
“Really?”
(Universal Dead lyric epigrams aside, the truth, hon, is that there were no bets. We all figured that you’d be real uncomfortable when Pete turned up the heat under your stew pot but that you’d already made a promise and you’d honor that promise because that’s the kind of guy you are…)
(Even if it meant that everyone out there would want your Deadhead on a platter.)
“Ha! Well you got me there. So the name Chuck from Norfolk, was there a reason you selected it? I have to admit there was something there I couldn’t quite put my finger on.”
(Well who is the most famous Chuck from Norfolk? Mr. Bobby Weir assumes his identity on occasion when he takes us to the…)
“‘Promised Land.’ Chuck Berry. And you selected that because of April first, nineteen-eighty?”
(Indeed.)
(What in tarnation is that, big bro?)
“April first, nineteen-eighty was the night when they opened the show at the Capitol Theatre in Passaic, New Jersey in true April Fool’s style with a version of ‘Promised Land’ that had Jerry Garcia and Brent Mydland on drums, Bob Weir on keys, Phil Lesh on guitar, Bill Kreutzmann on bass and Mickey Hart on guitar and vocals.”
(I thought we might be in trouble, though, when you brought up April 3, 1982 at The Scope.)
“Right, right. That’s the year that the Dead’s April Fool’s prank took place on April second and not on April first.”
(And what happened that night, big bro? Did they wear their underwear on their heads? Put toothpaste in the audience’s Oreos? Did they cover all the toilet seats in the venue with plastic wrap?)
“Jerry and Phil switched sides.”
(Switched sides? Switched sides on their softball teams? Switched sides on the nuclear debate? Switched sides in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict?”
“Switched sides on stage.”
(Now that’s a subtle joke.)
“I might have made the connection but I never had time to give it much thought with all else that was going on. Mitch, were your deck problems part of this, maybe to distract me?”