Phish Tales

Maggie’s Diary, December 1993:

Dear Diary,

Today was BIZARRE! And that’s saying something because not much really shocks me. I’ve seen chickens riding on the backs of pigs and cats chasing dogs. But today, I felt like I was in a comedy show gone wrong.

This morning, Amy came over to my stable with an excited look on her face. She told me that the band Phish, (yes, that’s right, spelled like the water creatures but not quite as slippery) wanted ME, Maggie the Magnificent, for a photoshoot.

The idea was to have me levitating. Can you believe it? Levitating! I mean, I’ve dreamed of flying over the fields. But seriously, lifting this horse body into the air is not an easy feat.

The photographer arrived with all sorts of fancy equipment. His name was Angel. (I only remember this because he smelled a bit like the leftover apple pie Amy sometimes gives me and that’s kind of easy to recall.)

Lester explained they would use a harness to hoist me up. The word “hoist” should have been my first clue to stay grounded. I took a deep breath, thinking of all the adoring fans who would see the final picture.

The harnessing process was, in one word: comedic. Angel and his assistants scrambled around like headless chickens trying to figure out how to get the equipment around me. Every time they thought they had it right, another strap would fall off, or a buckle would snap.

After what felt like an eternity (or the time it takes for the rooster to realize it’s morning and not midnight), they got me into the harness. The moment of lift-off arrived. I closed my eyes, ready to “feel my feet leave the ground”.

When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t the elegant levitation they had described. Instead, I was tilted to one side, one hoof higher than the other, and my mane was EVERYWHERE. I must’ve looked like a horse-shaped hot air balloon that had gone through a tornado.

The band members tried to keep straight faces, but it was clear this wasn’t the symbolic, powerful imagery they had envisioned. The drummer even snorted, and I’m not sure if it was from laughter or the ridiculousness of it all.

However, after all the antics, they decided to use the photo. Not the levitating, ethereal horse they had in mind, but a hilariously genuine depiction of their attempt. They called the album “Hoist”. I think it’s fitting. It’s not every day a horse gets to be a part of rock history, even if it’s not in the way they imagined.

In the end, I’m just glad I got my hooves back on solid ground. I think I’ll stick to galloping around Larrabee Farm here in Auburn, Maine. The skies are clearly not ready for Maggie the Flying Horse.

Until the next adventure, Diary!

Neighs and Whinnies,
Maggie.