The New York show was good, the first time I felt we managed to captivate the entire audience. But people with the wrong sort of qualities come to our shows now and hammer on the backstage door, expecting to be allowed in just because they bought a t-shirt. And there are a lot of them, an unnatural light burning in their eyes, spit spraying as they lecture us on the musicanship of Phish. I wanted to concentrate on saying goodbye to Annie and her band... and when I do it's heatbreaking, every muscle and bone in my body aches, aches, aches. My mind finally closes down into a trance of dog-tiredness, a tunnel from which I will emerge in London, waving goodbye from the other side of the Atlantic. If the plane doesn't crash, of course. Au revoir America (and Canada), it's been a blast.