Occasional reflections on hospitable moments with folks who just seem to get it. I, like many other proud weirdos, attended Phish’s two-night run at Birmingham’s Coca-Cola Amphitheater this past September. It had been a decade since my last rodeo with the band at Oak Mountain, and after striking out in the ticket lottery, I figured it’d be another ten. But then my brother—who’d moved to Indiana last year—managed to score a fair pair for both nights. And truthfully, I was more