LIVE AT THE FILMORE

We spilled out of the VW Microbus and into the parking lot of the Filmore West, kidneys bursting and filled with excitement to see Ten Years After, hoping to rock out to a 45 minute version of "Skoobly-Oobley-Doobob" or “Choo-Choo Mama”. I had never been to San Francisco before, but Buckman claimed to have been to Haight-Ashbury during the Summer of Love in 1967.

“I know this city like the back of my hand” he had said, and true to his word, Buckman had successfully navigated us admirably 1700 miles from Fort Worth, past the Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, through Los Alamos and the radioactive White Sands Atomic Testing Grounds, from Tuscon to Tucumcari as the weed, whites, and wine kicked in, past the Grand Canyon of the Rockies and up through the Sierra Nevadas and Yosemite before dropping down into the San Francisco Bay area.
Funny thing was, the Parking Lot at the Filmore West was empty but for our VW Microbus and an old toothless woman with a shopping cart.
Buckman says“Where are all the people?”
“Maybe we are a day early”
“I don’t think so” and Buckman pulls out his ticket. “Yeah it’s the right date man, but we are supposed to be at the Filmore East. Maybe that’s over in Oakland.
“No dipshit, the Filmore East is in Manhattan!”
And we both just cracked up laughin’.
Stoned again.

MISSED IT BY 3000 MILES