Phish expedition proves to be endurance test for fans August 3, 2003 - Portland Press Herald By Bob Keyes LIMESTONE — Jeff Van's self-styled T-shirt provided the motto for fans attending this weekend's It festival in northern Maine: "Make It Till Monday." "That's what it's all about," said the young man from North Carolina as he gulped what was probably not his first beer of the day at a little after 8 a.m. on Saturday. For some fans, the two-day, six-set concert by the Vermont-based band Phish is all about the music - an unusual opportunity to hear a favorite band play a full complement of songs in an anything-goes atmosphere. For other fans, it's mostly about the party. For both, it's simply a matter of survival and their ability to endure not only difficult circumstances but also their occasional poor judgment. Consider the story of Ken Monk, who drove from Pennsylvania with a group of friends. He and two of his buddies were first in line Saturday as they waited for the festival gates to open. Their quest: A position in front of the stage. "We want front row, and if you want front row you have to be willing to stand in line for nine hours," Monk said. "It always stinks while you're doing this, but every time we do it and we end up with great seats, it's like, 'It was totally worth it.' " Still, he admits, even with a good vantage point to watch the show, the struggles seemed overwhelming at times. Monk and his buddies left Pennsylvania on Thursday afternoon and drove 12 hours to get to Limestone. After a night of fitful sleep, they were back in line the next morning - at times during light rain - vying for stage-front positions. They did it with no showers, bad food and uncomfortable sleeping quarters, if there was any sleep at all. "You have to be willing to sacrifice hygiene," Monk said. "If you worry about it, you'll be too bogged down with washing and that stuff. It sounds disgusting, but if you buy a little deodorant, you'll be OK." Part of the survival drill is finding an edge. Everybody has a niche or gimmick. Some scoot around on motorized bikes, offering rides for a price. Others sell pot. Even local teens got a piece of the action, trading directions for back-road access to the concert site for a few cigarettes. Jeff Olson of Lincoln, R.I., found his edge tucked away in an ice-filled cooler. Olson works at a liquor store back home and brought enough beer for him and his friends to drink and extra to sell to strangers. His price was cheap: $2 for a bottle, and business was brisk. He set up shop midway across the massive, runway-length campground, saving fans the long trek to a temporary convenience store. Olson was among hundreds of rock 'n' roll entrepreneurs trying to make an extra buck to help pay for food or gas on the way home. "You either have to bring a grill so you can cook your own food or you bring something to sell," he said. Among the campers, all the essentials - and then some - were available for a price: bacon-and-egg breakfasts, grilled-cheese sandwiches, T-shirts, blankets, camping tarps, original art, craft items, jewelry, condoms, cigarettes, drugs, drug paraphernalia, beer and hard liquor. Reselling previously purchased goods is illegal, and concert spokesman Adam Lewis said security and law enforcement personnel watch for it. But they are more concerned about the larger operators, who arrive with rental trucks full of pirated T-shirts or large quantities of drugs and alcohol. Curtis Saunders of York, Pa., was putting up with all the inconvenience because he had promised his son he would take him to the show. "Why am I here? My son wanted to go to a Phish concert on New Year's Eve in Madison Square Garden. I told him no. I told him I would get him tickets instead for a show in Virginia Beach. But they were sold out before I could get tickets. So, I owed him a concert, and here we are," said Saunders. He said his only regret was not knowing the back roads, so he could have avoided the massive traffic jams Friday night. He also didn't appreciate the less-than-comfortable campsite. "Ramada Inn, now that's my kind of camping," he said. Copyright © 2003 Portland Press Herald