Saturday Style: An Encounter with a Not-So Phish Phan

It’s Saturday, which for us, means a quick breakfast of honey nut cheerios for the kids while I rush around getting myself and then the girls ready for gymnastics.

We were a dance family for a few years but when my youngest daughter Lilly started watching gymnastics videos on YouTube and Netflix – she begged to be signed up for that instead. I tried to put it off for a while, for my own selfish reasons. I grew up in the dance studio and always wanted my kids to be into it as well.

And although they are into it, I couldn’t deny Lilly’s request to try gymnastics when she proudly announced one day that she had taught herself to do a cartwheel. She’s 4 ½.

That said, for the past few weeks we’ve been coming to gymnastics before dance class. From there, we have a short break where I usually grab a hot Matcha Green Tea Latte for myself, a Vanilla Bean Cream Frappuccino for my seven-year-old and a birthday cake pop for the 4-year-old from the Starbucks Drive-Thru before heading down Ventura Boulevard for dance class.

Today, when leaving, hurried to get the kids shoes on while herding them toward the door I glanced up to see a woman wearing a Phish t-shirt. At gymnastics!

I always get so excited when I see a phan in the wild. I mean, I drive around town in a white SUV with a 46 DAYZ vanity plate and a “Run Like an Antelope” license frame. I do this because I love talking about Phish and I’m always secretly hoping someone will recognize it and spark conversation with me about them. It rarely happens.

I immediately tell this woman dressed in a beige t-shirt with the old school Phish logo on the front, cargo shorts and black pumps on her feet, “I love your t-shirt!”

She stared back at me, looking kind pretty confused from behind her bright blue eyes framed by thick brown bangs and hair that fell just above her shoulders. With a bewildered look on her face, she said “oh, thanks.”

Me, so excited: “I have a 46 DAYZ license plate!”

“Ooh really? Cool.”

She couldn’t be less enthusiastic.

Then I started to wonder, does she even know who Phish is? Why in the world is she wearing a t-shirt of a band she seems to not even know who they are?

“Do you go to their shows?” I asked.

“Oh, well my husband was really into them and I went to a show once.”

 ONCE. Said like that was normal. Like if I told her I told her 99% of the music I listen to is Phish and I plan work trips around Phish tour so I can squeeze in a show or two if possible. And that I’m flying to another state next week just for Phish – she would most definitely think I’m crazy. She’s probably right. But I say it anyway.

“We are going to see them, next week in Colorado. At Dicks!”

She stares at me blankly, looking slightly horrified that I said the word dick (and so loud) in a gymnastics center with children around. Not the reaction I was looking for.

I start to tell her they play Dicks Sporting Goods Park every Labor Day weekend, but trail off into a quick good bye when I realize she really isn’t into Phish at all.

It was probably laundry day and she woke up late, rushed out of her house after pulling this t-shirt out of the bottom of her drawer and threw it on with cargo shorts and black pumps. Now, thinking back on it, it was the oddest outfit really. Especially for Saturday gymnastics day! It was a bit like a reverse mullet. Party on top, business on the bottom.

Anyway, I decide it was her fault she wore this shirt today and I was going to take the opportunity to gush just a little bit more about my favorite band and maybe she’ll be curious enough to listen to them later and take herself back to that moment of seeing them. I’m doing this lady a favor. She’s better off now. Enlightened, really.