Merry Christmas .net! I'm finally writing this story down before any of the details are forgotten. Its a long one and 100% true.

Context: My brother introduced me to Phish in 2007. It started with 12/31/95 as a birthday gift, and was followed soon after with the IT dvd. Because of this, I unknowingly became a huge fan of 2.0, as it was a decent portion of my first exposure to the band. I didn't really ever consider the circumstances that lead to 2.0 being what it was, and just took it at face value strictly in terms of the music (jams). In the early days of 3.0, I had yet to piece together that the band moved on from most aspects of that era. I think I may have even started a thread back in '10/'11 about how underrepresented Round Room material was on tour. I just assumed that there may have been negative associations and left it at that.

Flash forward to 2014. I had caught logistaclly as many shows as I could up to this point and when the announcement for Phish's return to Las Vegas surfaced, my brother and I were adamant about being there. We thought there was a decent chance they'd never play there again, and as fans partial to their darker material, we made it our mission to get to Sin City for the first nights of the run. Night 1 was Halloween, a Phish spectacle that we had yet to experience.

This also coincided with my 21st birthday, taking place a few days before Halloween. First time in Vegas, freshly 21, seeing Phish...it was a recipe for an unforgettable trip.

At the time of 10/31/14, I was no stranger to booze/partying but was definitely inexperienced in the world of drugs. More on that later.

We drove from LA to Vegas for night one, with visions of Hunter S. Thompson making the same trek decades earlier for Fear & Loathing. HST has also been a bond between my brother and me, so the mantra of "Buy the ticket, take the ride" was in full effect here.

Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of Halloween was one of - if not the - most creative and impressive feats of live music I have seen. Sets 1 and 3 are also fantastic (Sand -> Tweeprise!), but the Phishiness displayed for the Halloween set was one for the books. You guys all know that.

Night two is really what this story is about.

We had great seats Page side and I had resolved to an "anything goes" approach to the show, as night 1 was so great that I really didn't care what happened next. It was all gravy. So, after a few rarities in the set, I felt even more free-spirited than ever before. When Frankie Says began, I absolutely lost my mind. One of our favorite Phish songs, and one we thought we'd never see, certainly not in Vegas, was happening before us. A dark song in a dark town. Picture perfect combination.

It was at this point when my brother decided to grab us some Heinekens to ride out the rest of the set. We had some interesting neighbors in our row, this one larger dude with an epic Trent Klatt (Philadelphia Flyers) jersey and his attractive girlfriend who seemed much more into us than him. Not much else to say about them except his jersey was awesome and he was pretty hammered. Nice guy.

While he was getting beers, a guy behind me asked me about my thoughts on the set. I was elated, as Dog Faced Boy and Frankie Says are two of my favorite songs and it was my first time catching either. I told him as much. Without skipping a beat, he offered me some acid. I hesitated for a few seconds and said f**k it, buy the ticket and take the ride.

Big mistake.

Before anyone comes down on me about that decision, just know I was a wide eyed kid in the proverbial belly of the beast. I never once considered anything bad happening, because I trusted the community and myself and felt like now was the time if there ever was one. It was dumb, but so was I, so lets get back to the story.

My brother returns with said Heinekens and I inform him that I had just dropped some acid. He responded with a very cordial "cool, let me know if shit gets sideways." I enjoyed the remainder of the set, waiting for something to happen, when Wingsuit started. That was the first inkling of the acid taking hold. Any movement created a tail, and the sound zipped around my head like it was orbiting my ears rather than going in them. Trent Klatt was sitting down, and I immediately realized I was in the wrong spot for this. So I rode out the song, with the lyric "Time to put your wingsuit on" cascading in my head. Set over. I turned to my brother and told him I had to go to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. I didn't elaborate, and I honestly meant to do that and return to my seat.

I never made it to the bathroom.

When I got to the aisle, I looked back to double check our spot and it seemed like Trent Klatt and my brother zoomed away a light speed, sort of like tunnel vision. I knew I was completely screwed, but maybe I could manage it.

When I got to the hallway, I began to lose direction/intent/consciousness and straight up walked out of the show. At MGM Grand, the venue is within the confines of the casino, so leaving it only turns you lose to the casino floor. So much stimulation. At this point, I decided to ditch my shoes (insert Cavern lyrics here) and began to suspect everyone I encountered knew who I was already. With that mindset, I decided my wallet was no longer necessary, since I didn't need an ID because everyone would recognize me anyways. I had the foresight to bring my backup wallet, with just my ID and a debit card, in case I somehow misplaced it, or something...

A gentleman picked up my wallet and told me repeatedly that I needed to keep it. I kind of turned him away but I ultimately accepted the wallet back, but bent my ID in half (I REALLY didn't think it was important). I tossed it soon after.

The next hour+ played out like a category 5 bad trip. I ended up wandering around the streets surrounding the MGM, having a very Truman Show/Eternal Reoccurrence nightmare about my entire life beginning and ending in this same spot unless I could figure out how to break the chain and literally "move on" and finish my actual life. Not to mention, I thought everyone was in on this and I was the star of some crude joke/show where the plot centered around my discovering this for myself. In a short and sweet version, I realized I needed to be more appreciative of all the sacrifices and nice things people do for me, and to never take any of it for granted. So that was a rose in an otherwise thorny period of time.

I started to come back-to while waiting for a long line of people trying to take an escalator down to the next level of the concourse. But I wasn't fully there yet, and still thought I was the star of this grand show. So I did the only thing that made sense at the time: I jumped off the side of the escalator to cut the line. About 10-15 feet below was a big pitched tent, like something from an outdoor college graduation, and I slid down the top, like Robin Hood or something. The pain I felt in my ribs from the impact was enough to sober me up to the point that I realistically would have made it back to the MGM, but it was too late by that point. I was apprehended by the local security, all the while absolutely hearing it from the people above waiting for the escalator. They were genuinely shocked and also somewhat entertained by this all going down. Who could blame them?

I pleaded to be let go (those zip-tie cuffs hurt like hell) but it wasn't happening. An ambulance arrives on the scene and the woman who was aiding me literally seemed like she had a white light emanating from all around her, and I kept repeating over and over that she was beautiful.

In the ambulance, they were trying to figure out who the hell I was because I had no ID and no phone (more on THAT later). The only information I gave was that my name was Williams. This was generated from the random fact that I love Enter the Dragon (Bruce Lee), and Williams is a great character in that movie. So damn cool.



Anyways, I wake up in the hospital and immediately realize I have nothing on me. Still tripping, very hard. The staff there at first was super hardcore but totally lightened up once they realized I was literally just a stupid kid that went overboard. I called my brother at the hotel, and he was so sleepy that he picked up the phone and then hung it back up again. Seriously. It sucked so bad being in that environment in my state, and to make matters worse it happened to be Daylight Savings Time, so time went back an hour at (I think) at 2am back to 1am. As if it couldn't get worse. So, with no phone, I had to suck it up and call one of the few relevant numbers I remembered: my Mom's.

"Hi, I know you're just waking up at 6am your time but this is your son calling from a hospital in Las Vegas. I don't know where I am, and I don't have a wallet or phone or shoes and I'm not sure where my brother is"

I didn't say it like that, but that was the cut 'n' dry version. My mom (who is wonderful) was rightfully like...what the actual f*ck??????! Worst case scenario.

Here's why it was the right call: I had to fly back to Maine that (Sunday 11/2) night from Los Angeles. With no wallet, I have no ID. I wouldn't be let on the plane unless I was able to secure a couple documents. Step one was to acquire a copy of my passport. My Mom trudged through the snow (they got like a foot and a half that night here) and managed to make a copy for me and sent a pdf for me to print out when I could at a Fedex Kinkos.

I had sounded the alarm that the night was a disaster, which resulted in a sweeping family outreach that had everyone sitting with their finger's crossed together hoping my brother was okay (he's a heavy sleeper), and that I'm able to come home. Weird vibes for sure.

They finally let me leave after I divulge more information about my identity. They had my name as Dillon (my name is Dylan) Williams on their official records, but everyone called me Tarzan, which I thought was actually pretty funny. I was honest and gave them my real info. I just needed to get out of there.

This other Phan had gotten piss-drunk and ended up in the same predicament as me there. It just so happened that we got released at the same time, and he offered to get the cab for us to get back to MGM. He was a canoe maker from Colorado. I don't remember his name but he spot me big time. With the sun coming up, I ran through the MGM Grand floor shoeless trying to get to our room.

I banged on the door until my brother opened it, saying "good to see you" in 100% obliviousness. He had slept through every phone call and text about his safety and mine, so it was a literal rude awakening on his end. On the counter was my phone, which has an amazing story on its own that I'll get to in a second.

We packed all our shit and prepared to check out. I told the staff about what had happened, and they had no knowledge of my missing wallet. The second piece of information I needed to fly was a police report detailing my missing wallet claim directly from the LVPD. I was still very much tripping and now needed to go to LVPD Headquarters to acquire documentation about my missing/stolen wallet. Right.

My brother and I hop into an uber and the guy takes us first to a defunct office and then figures out the HQ had moved several miles down the strip. My brother has him return us to the hotel so we can get in his car and go there for when they open at 8am. I'm wearing his extra shoes at this point.

We make it to HQ and wait for them to open. There's already a line. Once in, I waited for maybe 20 minutes and then spoke with a wonderful older woman who filed my claim. I was tripping BALLS in the police department, and she kept spelling my last name wrong which caused us to file the paperwork from scratch three separate times. It was not ideal.

With that in hand, we get out of town and about halfway through the desert my brother and I begin laughing about the near prospect of me somehow getting out of this without any serious detriment other than a lot of worried and pissed off family members and some bills which would suck but all things considered, preferable to the alternative.

We get back to LA and grab some Chipotle and print my passport copy at a nearby Kinkos. Coming down was terrible. I had to pee at one point and it felt like needles due to my sensitivity. Not cool. I try to rest but can't, reminiscing over the dark period of time the trip had me on. With the documents I needed in hand, but with complete uncertainty, we made our way to LAX. I soon realized I also would not be allowed through the airport with no shoes of my own. We pull into a Target off the PCH and he buys me bedazzled flipflops. Literally $5. But I guess I deserved that.

Once at LAX, I knew the entire time I was going to be a problem child for the TSA and still somewhat tripping. And wearing bedazzled flip-flops. When it came time for me to present identification, I explained my situation and they pulled me aside into the secret TSA room where they try to figure out if you're about to commit serious crimes. It was here when my odd childhood memories came into play, as they literally asked me to tell them the last name of one of my neighbors from 2000-2005. As well as the birthplaces of both my parents. And the last name of the current neighbor to my childhood home. It was a revelation to see what information they had available to them.

I passed the tests and was allowed, under supervision, to make my way through security. God it was so lame. I was able to fly home and put that chapter behind me, and was lucky I didn't get myself killed. I was mostly looking forward to being able to joke about the whole thing, which came much sooner than I expected with my Dad reminding me not to forget my shoes anytime I left the house.

Here's why my brother didn't suspect anything: A girlfriend I had in middle school was coincidentally in Vegas and I made plans to get a drink with her for the sheer randomness of it after night 2. He had reason to believe I was doing that. Leaving the show was concerning but he chalked it up to me meeting up with the lady.

It was later by the slots he received a call from my phone, from phans, who found it several casinos away in an employee only section. That was when he knew I was in trouble. He searched for me for a few hours but came up with nothing and crashed. I don't blame him one bit. But he was able to meet up with these said phans and they gave him my phone and took a picture of themselves to let me know they were my guardians this night. Thank you guys again.

And thus the legend of Dillon Williams was born. Merry Christmas!

TL;DR - I did acid for the first time and missed 11/1/14 set 2