The woman in the center of the picture thought the event was called Day on the Great Gatsby, and came as Daisy.
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In a lot of ways, I can really relate to Phil: he didn’t deal with the Hiatus well, and I think it fucked with him for a long time afterwards. All the other Grateful Deads started side bands or new projects, but Phil got drunk and hung out at softball games; that’s exactly what I would have done, too.
(And the stark reality of it was that Phil didn’t have the options the other guys did had the band truly broken up: Garcia was playing with Jerry Band the next day, and Bobby would have the record company putting his face on solo albums, and good drummers can always find work. In the reality up the stairs and third door on the left, the Dead were done in ’74 and Phil kept making noises with Ned for a while, then became composer-in-residence at the College of the Redlands or some place like that.)
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“Deb?”
“Yeah, Jer?”
“You a rock star?”
“No.”
“Then why you wearing sunglasses inside?”
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If you can immediately picture the photo that guy is taking, and know that Deborah Koons has a plate of food on her lap that is hidden by Pete Townshend, then you have seen too many photos of the Dead.
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Heineken.
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