Phlying Phish December 19, 2003 - Miami Herald (Street Miami) By DB Cooley The Jam band lands at the American Airlines Arena Hold a ticket in the air and they will come, by the broken-down van loads: Hordes of young, shaggy-haired music fans in frayed jeans will be loitering outside the American Airlines Arena in downtown Miami on New Year's Eve trying to get in, and it won't be to see the Heat. This is no normal concert with just any band, but a chance for the faithful to commune with their beloved Phish, the mother of all jam bands. Going on 20 years of existence, Phish inherited a generation of distraught Deadheads after the Grateful Dead's demise in 1995, becoming the defacto draw for wandering concert crashers for whom traveling from venue to venue is a lifestyle. A typical Phish fan counts their ticket stubs in the dozens. For that kind of dedication, the band gives back generously, especially during their New Year's Eve mondo-marathon extravaganzas. The shows have become legendary, not just for the three-set, all-night jams, but for the midnight surprise that usually involves some sort of theatrics of Spinal Tap proportions. ''People rally around them,'' says Phish keyboardist Page McConnell of the New Year's Eve shows, speaking from the band's offices in Burlington, Vermont. ``There's usually some sort of gag or set up around the midnight hour.'' Consider the 79,672 balloons released into the crowd at Boston's Fleet Center in 1996, the life-size chess match between the audience and the band in '95 or the mass glow-stick battle at New York's Madison Square Garden in '98. For the 2002 show, also at Madison Square Garden, the band recreated a winter carnival of fireworks, falling fake snow, decked-out stilt walkers, and a cast of dancing elves. But perhaps the most infamous Phish New Year's stunt, one involving a giant flying hot dog in Boston in 1994. ''We had this concept of getting in some sort of vehicle, flying from the stage to the cheapest seat in the house, and playing for that person,'' says McConnell. After working out the logistics of the flight and agreeing on the need for a long, thin vehicle to get them there, the band hit on the idea of a hot dog. ''It's a very cool hot dog. It has headlights and exhaust and four seats that pop up and doors that open up for us,'' gushes McConnell about the hot dog that arrived from the rafters a few minutes before midnight with a corresponding giant coke and fries. ''We got in the hotdog and took off and went to the other end of the arena,'' he laughs. 'We had little instruments and played `Auld Lang Syne' in our hotdog.'' It's hard to kill a good concept. So when the band played their 2000 New Year's Eve show in the Everglades' Big Cypress reservation, the hot dog was secretly hauled down from its home at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland and outfitted to resemble an airboat. ''There was this huge explosion, the sides blew off the airboat, and it was us riding in a hot dog. And we just sort of rode through the crowd to the stage at midnight,'' says McConnell. After that show and the two year hiatus that followed it, the boys are back together and playing better than ever. ''I really feel we're at a special point right now where the four of us are all so into the band and so dedicated. Now, 20 years have gone by, and we're really good friends,'' says McConnell, whose side band Vida Blue will be performing in Miami Beach on January 3 with the Spam Allstars. ``With each passing year, it becomes even more unique and special just by virtue of the fact that so much time has passed and we're still together.'' And even though American Airlines Arena isn't exactly the hallowed ground of a Seminole Indian reservation, the show will be just as memorable for the band's legion of fans, many of whom will travel from all corners of the country to be a part. ''You can't really compare it to playing all night on the Big Cypress reservation,'' says McConnell. ''But who knows? Maybe there'll be a little bit of magic recreated.'' Bring mustard and relish, just in case. Article Copyright © 2003 Miami Herald