As the sun finally rose, he was starting to understand the meaning of life. Well not really, but last night while he and his two best friends were deep into conversation, it seemed like they had it all figured out. Their talk was wide ranging and free form, bouncing from one subject to the next with a Kerouac like urgency. As the level in the tequila bottle got lower and lower, the three friends let it flow. Love, sex, aging, death and just how amazing is Roger Daltrey’s scream at the end of Won’t Get Fooled Again?  The sun was beginning to peak over the eastern foothills and yet the three friends felt like they were just getting started.

Like a Coltrane solo their conversation flowed effortlessly, folding over and doubling back, constantly reinventing itself, tendrils twisting and climbing, reaching toward the morning light. There is much history between these three. Their friendship was forged in the psychedelic swirl of the Grateful Dead. Their roots go deep into the past and far towards the future. Theirs is an enduring friendship, rock solid and steady. Their conversation continued to swing from the hilarious to the sublime and to all points in between. They were improvising and playing off of each other. Coltrane continued to blow.

Outsiders listening in would  be amazed at the amount of sarcasm and abuse that’s bantered about. However one thing would be very clear, the love that these guys have for one another is undeniable. They can keep it light as a feather or go as deep as you’d be honest enough to let yourself go.

Their tequila ritual, born on a winter night in Mexico, is essential to these proceedings. The pouring of the amber liquid. The slicing of the lime. The clinking of the glasses. The deal is sealed once again. They are brothers in every sense of the word.