Bobby didn’t know why he always sweat an exact map of the ancient super-continent Pangaea. Phil had many theories.
Immediately after this picture was taken, Mickey and Billy commandeered the golf cart and drove it into the porta-potties.
Doobies were smoked.
Garcia looks like he needs a bowl of soup and some conversation about Jesus.
Even after being informed—repeatedly and in clear language—what the deal was, Bobby still wanted to bang the one on the left.
It’s not the photo: they’re actually so high they’re out of focus.
Oh, Bobby. We’ll get to you.
Mickey has stolen Billy’s mustache in the photo above, but been nice enough to leave him (Billy) one of his (Mickey’s) shirts (Dead). Billy looks odd without the lip-mongoose: where does he hide his secrets and dreams?
Phil is trying out a new thing where he shows the crowd his package while dropping a Phil Bomb; he calls it ‘the Presidential Suite” and Jill told him…
Seriously, though: get the Grateful Dead away from the children.
"What color scheme are we going with for the jacket and shirt, Bobby?" "I was thinking gay aerobics class."
No one told Parish about “prop chairs”and he nearly fucking killed Bobby.
Think fast: does the disco arrangement of Dancing in the Streets start with the chorus or the verse?
If it took you a second, then you’re in good company: the band didn’t know, either. And, true to form, they made the bold decision to (seemingly deliberately) never learn the answer, instead choosing to have several people singing one version and several people singing the other every single time…
With a cat’s grace, Bobby leapt into the crowd. Once there, he realized that there was no further plan, panicked, started hugging up on fans, lifted a couple wallets.