There are many things which go along with having a physical disability that make life a little stressful. I have to think about things every day that other teenagers probably never have to think about. I am constantly worrying about whether my work will be prepared for me in class, how I'm going to go to the bathroom, when I'm going to need a ride home from the game� Therefore, being able to do things that completely remove me from the life that I lead is very important to me. Even the shortest break from the 'real world' helps me a lot in trying to maintain my sanity.

A year and a half ago, breaking free was a really hard thing for me to do. There were very few things in this world that would give me that sense of complete freedom. I was so used to being 'responsible' that it was close to impossible for me to just let loose and go wild. Then I met Bo.

When Bo discovered that I knew a little bit about Phish, and that I had a few of their albums, he latched on to that fact like a bulldog and wouldn't let go. After our first two weeks together, and after the twenty-sixth playing of the second disc of 'A Live One' (one of Phish's many live recordings), I was hooked. From then on Phish blared from my stereo every day after school.

It was inevitable that Bo and I would go to a Phish show sooner or later. This past June, after seven months of hearing all about Trey, Phishman, Page, and Mike, Bo and I hit the road to Mansfield, Mass. to see Phish at The Tweeter Center. We had decked the windows of my white van with doodles of crazy faces and scribbled 'Phreaks' on the windows in white shoe polish. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew it would be an experience unlike any I had ever known before.

As we neared our exit, I looked around at the people in the surrounding cars. Everybody headed to the show had long, scraggly hair. They were all in their twenties and early thirties, and many of them had Golden Retrievers in the back seats of their cars. There was a lot of Bob Marley, Grateful Dead, and Allman Brothers filtering into the air all around us. The second 't' in 'Tweeter' on the sign for The Tweeter Center had been covered by a piece of cardboard with the letter 'z' printed on it (Phish has a song called Tweezer). A hippie girl in a car beside us leaned out her window and whispered to Bo, "You're a freak!" to which he responded, "I know". It was then that I realized that this was not going to be like any other concert I had ever been to.

The parking lot for disabled people was nearly empty. I wheeled out of the car and stared. I was being submerged into a whole new culture for the very first time. To my right, there were rows upon rows of campers, pick-up trucks, Toyotas, and a slew of other cars and trucks from the seventies and eighties. They all had their hatches open, and their owners were selling grilled cheese sandwiches, beverages, tee shirts, hemp necklaces, veggie burritos, and pretty much anything else that a Phish-loving, twenty-six-year-old would ever want.

It was still several hours before the doors opened, and I was hungry. Bo and I wove our way through the masses to the first row of vendors. There were many guys with bare chests, and even more bare feet. But everybody was wearing a smile, either from a buzz of some kind, or from pure joy. It was the most incredible experience of my life-to be in the middle of a group of such purely happy people. There were no gruff and angry faces like in the real world. I was in the middle of a square half mile of unadulterated bliss. It was amazing!

I was still hungry. Bo climbed onto the back of my chair, and I wound my way in and out of the crowd, handing out 'Hey man's, 'What's going on?'s, and occasional 'Sorry dude's as I went. I stopped every once in a while to check out a display of seven or so tee shirts laid out on the pavement. Bo stepped off my chair for a minute to buy a soda. We found two guys selling grilled cheeses for a buck a piece. Bo gave them two bucks, and we waited about five minutes. A cop on a bike pedaled up to the vending station and told the guys running it to shut it down. But, like any twenty-some-year-old in need of a buck, they kept selling their goods.

We chowed our grilled cheeses and kept wandering. We went up and down three or four rows of cars and vendor s. Sometimes Bo navigated, sometimes I did. Bo saw one or two people he had met at previous Phish shows, and I made acquaintances who I might see again at future Phish shows. We moseyed for another hour or two until the doors opened.

It was about six thirty, and people were beginning to filter into the amphitheater. We skipped the lines, and were ushered to an empty gate. They briefly frisked Bo, but not me. "Yuh know Ben, we could sneak anythang we wannud to in here if we hid it on yew," Bo drolly remarked in his southern voice. He said it loud enough so a nearby security guard could hear it. The guard quickly awoke out of a daze and uttered a stunned, "What?". "I wuz jest kidd'n, sir," Bo assured the him, and we continued in.

I stopped to buy a pea green tee shirt from a more professional vendor right inside the gates. It sported the word 'Phish' in a funky font on the front. Bo stuffed the shirt in my bag, and we hiked to the top of a paved, curved ramp to the handicap accessible seats. They were great seats. We had a perfect view of the stage, and one that wouldn't be hindered by lively dancers in front of us. It was still forty-five minutes or an hour until show time, but I didn't care.

The scenery was excellent. In front of us, a large section of seats swarmed with hippies. I don't mean the radical hippies that existed in the sixties that attacked cops and rebelled against the government. No, nineties hippies are a completely carefree people. They wouldn't kill an ant if they were told to. They think that life is worth living, and so they live it. After another hour or so, the place was packed. Everybody was ready for the music to begin. The energy in that place was almost tangible. People had come from all over to see four musicians work their magic, and they only had to wait a few more minutes.

Finally, Trey, Phishman, Mike, and Page sauntered onto the stage. Everybody lost control and went wild. The band began to jam, and every inch of the stadium filled with the purest energy in the world. It overwhelmed all of my senses, and gave me a feeling I had never known could exist in one human being. I was filled to the brim with verve. As the jam grew louder and louder and faster and faster, and as the energy kept mounting inside me, I thought I would explode.

When I looked behind my seat and past all of the bobbing heads and flailing arms, I saw the most spectacular sunset that I've ever seen. The whole sky was bright purple with streaks of orange and red. Was it real or surreal? No other experience I have ever known has come close to that intensity.

My whole body thrashed and writhed to the beat of the music. My arms and legs flailed wildly and not a thought was in my head. This was what I had longed for, and needed for so long. When I thought my body couldn't move any faster, the jam got even more intense, and so did my movements. It was ecstasy.

By the time the first set was over I was drenched with sweat. I knew that all my muscles would be sore the next day from moving so much, but I didn't give a damn. I had gotten what I came for, and way more. This feeling surpassed total freedom. It was pure adrenaline for the soul.

After I had caught my breath and my ears stopped ringing, I turned to the people around me. There was a girl (probably in her early twenties) named Adriana to my left. She was wearing a purple sequined halter-top and neon striped bell-bottoms. Behind me was a guy named Jake from Connecticut who had been to thirty Phish shows in his life (which, compared to some Phish fans I know, is a relatively low number). To Bo's right was a guy named 'Turtle' and his wife. The second set started up after a while. I was rested and ready to go. I moved my body this time just as much as during the first set. It was dark now, so Adriana's sequins sparkled in the light show. She had a backpack full of toys. From it she pulled a wand with streamers on the end, and she twirled it around in front of her. Occasionally, a lively fan would come along and dance under the streamers. I spent the whole set thrashing about, watching Adriana work her spells with the wand, and reveling in the fact that I had finally found a way to completely let go.

That evening was incredible for me. It did more for me than I'll probably ever know. Does this mean I'm going to become a major 'Phish head'? Maybe. But more importantly, it means that I know where to go to get away from life temporarily. And that may be the most valuable thing I have ever learned.