All I had left to do was enjoy the show that evening. Lo and behold, I woke up the next morning, the swelling was gone, and any pain had all but vanished. With that thought in mind, I went to bed. I continued to think that it would slowly go away, so as not to interfere with the show the following evening. Through the course of the day my ankle continued to bother me but it was far from unbearable. The swelling would go down and I would have no problem. All I could think to myself was that this could not and would not ruin my Phish experience. I awoke the next morning and my left ankle was severely swollen, and very sore and tender. My ankles were torn apart and dotted like a page of Braille from all the bites. Two nights before the show, while camping out, I made the mistake of not covering every inch of my body to protect it from insects.
To save money we decided to camp on the Mississippi Bayou, home to many a legend, and many a biting insect. I was now sticking around the Crescent City for a few days to catch Phish at the State Palace Theater before returning to sunny Florida. My second voyage to the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival had come and gone. (Published in the second edition of The Phish Companion.)
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