Life in the fast lane

Last night, I went to the 2011 Summer Tour finale of Furthur, featuring the music stylings of Phil Lesh and Bob Weir. We arrived early, in fact, even before the venue was open. We drove around and discovered a gypsy-style camp where followers of the band and vendors were hanging out, hoping for a parking pass or miracle ticket. These individuals had been traveling with the band from town to town.
We often wonder what it would be like to give up our daily concerns and hit the road on tour with the band. The problem arises when you discover it isn’t 1969 anymore, and very little free love exists. The mom and pop diners and motels have given way to ultra-homogenized fast food restaurants and chain hotels that offer turn down service. While strolling through the vendors in the lot, we noticed the vibe that comes with $1 beers sold out of a trunk and a falafel grilling on a propane stove. But, like anywhere, there were those who had a gentle demeanor and those that were gruff.
The Grateful Dead survived on the ideals of sharing, but I wonder if too many of the current followers have gotten caught up in the fast lane and have forgotten the reasons they left their life in the suburbs. I had a great time and met people from all over, including a vendor from Colorado that sold us two children’s tie-dyed shirts. Every once in a while I notice I haven’t smelled the roses lately and I think we could all spend a moment to find and stop by them.

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

%d bloggers like this: