When I met the woman who would later become my wife, I was just 19 years old. I had a long, long ponytail. I delivered pizza.
In 1994 I was thin, carefree, and spent more time planning my next road trip than with silly “conventional” distractions like rent, gas, and cable TV.
I saw the Grateful Dead at Soldier Field that year. I saw Phish in Cincinnati and Louisville. I crashed a Phish show on my 20th birthday way up in Bethlehem, PA.
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