MSG: A Survival Guide for the 200s

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In Today's Email | 🚨A vital message for every Phish fan

MSG: A Survival Guide for the 200s

For the Phish Fan in Your Life You’re Concerned About

As you know, our tickets tonight are in the 200s. Before we head to the venue, I’d like to just go over a couple of key things to ensure this is a pleasant concertgoing experience for everybody in our party.

A little bit of background. In the last several years, an effort has been undertaken to attract a respectable crowd at Phish and migrate the population of the traditional “phan” to a more contained, isolated, environment, away from the cameras and the taxpaying audience. This undertaking has largely been a success. That’s why today, you’ll find a lot of clean-shaven, collared-shirt-and-vest-wearing men around you when Phish takes the stage. Lots of guys standing still holding beers in coozies and correctly and consistently identifying the song that’s being played. You’ll find women wearing tastefully tie dyed shawls, having gotten bejeweled before the show by a professional. That’s good for Madison Square Garden. That’s good for business. That’s where you want to find yourself. 

The aforementioned phans– aka the people you used to see at Phish shows– have been gradually squeezed into the section above these more savory concertgoers: The 200-section. This is where you’ll find balding men with dreads. Lots of flip flops. People with small heads and very, very, large flat brim hats. Tattooed women who didn’t bring a jacket. If someone has one of those rings that’s basically a huge hole in their ear lobe? The 200s is where you’re going to find them and their friends. 

If for whatever reason you were unable to procure a ticket in the safe zone, you may very well find yourself in the 200s. This is by no means a death sentence, but it does mean you need to be aware of your surroundings if you want to make it home safely. So, just a few quick reminders before the show begins:

• A lot of the people in the 200s have nowhere to go after the show. 

• A lot of these people lost their right to vote when they were convicted of a federal crime, so they are not invested in your future. 

• Regardless of how you yourself ended up in the 200s, you are now no longer recognizable to the people who you used to call your friends.

• Embrace it. Nobody is coming to save you.

• Avoid the bathroom if you can. They are lawless environments. By the first set of the run’s second show, a local gang will have typically established dominance and will be providing security for you. You can trust them.

• Make sure you have cash on you for emergencies. Credit cards are not accepted in the 200s. The venue does not even trust these dirtbags with cupholders, let alone credit. 

• What do we say if someone asks to borrow your phone? “Sir, I’m aware that you might have forgotten your charger on the train from Philadelphia. Yes, I can see you and your partner have a small child with you. No, I am not familiar with how the food stamp system works. No, I am not aware of how that relates to baby formula. No, you may not borrow my phone for just a minute.” Be firm, make strong eye contact, and walk away. 

• If you find yourself in a situation that requires help from a professional? Do not waste time finding an MSG employee. Garden personnel cannot help you in the 200s. Despite the authority they endeavor to project, they’re as vulnerable as you are. In the 200s, you’re going to want to go straight to the New York Fire Department. Skip the Police. They lack the hardware necessary for the kind of help you’ll need.

Now, let’s talk about 2001. 

• The parasites in the 200s feed on it. It nurtures them. Like slugs after a rainstorm in a low water ecosystem.

• Know your exits. 

• If you are seated above Row 16? In the part of the 200s where the The Chase Bridge blocks your sight and sound? I want you to grab onto something hard. Something solid. Make a fist. If you can make it to the end your row, leave the venue. Do not wait for your friends. 

• If you can’t make it outside before the first crescendo? Simply close your eyes. It’s too late for you. You are one of them now. Head over to Amazon, purchase a few pins and a flat brim Disco Biscuits hat, and tell your loved ones you need to borrow some money for an investment. Soak in the blissful jams and slippery lights, because you’ll need them. It’ll be at least a year until the next show and the months ahead will be long and cold. 

🧠 This article does a fantastic job of articulating something that’s been on my mind as I think about what to write next. What felt resonant 10-years ago, even 5-years ago, simply doesn’t hit the same anymore.

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Michael Weber is a writer and Phish fan who has still never been invited to a suite and resents those who have. If you received this email, you signed up for his newsletter at some point. If you'd like to unsubscribe, you must first find somebody else to replace you. Share a link to subscribe!