When Jerry Garcia died in 1995, everyone thought that was the end. It was the first night of a three-night run of the final shows for this iteration of the Grateful Dead-the last tour ever, the last shows ever, though, as everyone knows, the Grateful Dead has been ending for nearly twenty years. Another white guy with dreadlocks held up a sign that said, “Cash, grass, or ass-I’ll take it all.” A friend, stunned by the famous Northern California fog, bought an ugly tie-dye sweatshirt at a makeshift stand outside the stadium for seventy-eight dollars. “This is really a lot of different types of white people, huh?” a first-time attendee said as we walked into the show at San Francisco’s Oracle Park (formerly AT&T Park, SBC Global Park, and PacBell Park.) On the street, a white guy with dreadlocks offered us mushrooms. Walking into a Dead & Company show is more or less how you imagine it would be: there are nearly forty thousand people converging on a baseball stadium wearing some of the worst outfits you have ever seen in your life.
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