As we became more confident with taking our show on the road we decided to go for an even bigger fish. Well actually, Phish. In 1997, We applied for the Limestone concert and paid our vendor’s fee. It was no chump change, but we felt we would have a captive audience eager to work off their hangovers and get jacked up for serious dancing. They were an energetic, singular crowd. They were in their early twenties with nothing but time on their hands. To say they were happy would be an understatement. It took a lot of planning to pull this one off. Back then, as now, we were a small company with only a few employees. To staff up we contacted a man we had met at a specialty food show held in Boston, Jim Cook. He lived in potato growing country, Grand Isle, Maine, close to Limestone. We knew he had several kids who we figured would be eager to work the show. He coughed up two of his daughters, Miranda and Leah. The booth was open an insane number of hours each day and those young girls remained helpful, fun and dedicated the entire time. Great workers with great attitudes. We also hired Gussie’s sister Ellie who, truth be told, could probably have manned the booth single handedly. Ellie, Jane, and Gussie remained on the concert grounds the whole time and the girls returned home each night for hot showers and beds. We had tents, portable toilets, hard ground, and lots of noise from late night revelers. As if ANYTHING could keep us awake after a bazillion hours on duty. We also had to secure water, dairy, ice, sugar, and electricity. We were told by the venue that there would be plenty of water available from the gigantic tanks that would be trucked in and located near our booth. Check that off our list. Next, we had to figure out ice, cream, and sugar. Jane and Gussie dug out their trusty solar powered calculator and began figuring out just how much cream would be needed. We knew enough about the younger coffee drinkers to have a lot of cream and sugar on hand. We came up with an average amount of each that would be needed per cup and then extrapolated what we should get. We worked those numbers for a long time only to throw the pencils down and declare that we would need “a shit load”. We called a grocer located near the venue and told him of our dilemma. He assured us he would bring in enough supplies to see us through the show. Check those things off our list. Next, we had to make sure we had enough power to run the six pour-over brewers we estimated we would need to keep up with the volume of sales. Having learned a little about electricity by that point we signed up for 200 amps of power with six outlets. Check: the concert coordinators had no problem with that. We roasted and bagged lots of coffee. The one thing we weren’t going to run out of was actual coffee. We loaded up our big white van, Blanche, and headed north. It was a five-and-a-half-hour drive. We headed up the day prior to the opening of the show to set up and learn the lay of the land. We passed all manner of vehicles who were obviously headed to the show. The campground for the attendees opened a day or two earlier too. Our booth was in a pretty good spot, far back from the stage but well within walking distance for the Phish-Heads and on the way to the bank of portable toilets. We found the enormous water tanks and tasted the water. It was horrid. There was no way we could use that for our coffee. We tried to find a water company to deliver at such a short notice but had no luck. We called Jim and without any hesitation he assured us he would take care of it. We estimated we would need about fifty 5-gallon jugs for the show. True to his words, while we were out talking to that grocer, he had somehow gotten onto the grounds, without a pass, to deliver the jugs and stack them neatly by our booth. The guy was a miracle worker. We hadn’t yet figured out how to get the big dual brewers to work at a show, so all the brewing happened one pot at a time. A bank of six brewers were lined up. One by one a pot of water would be poured in, and a pot of hot coffee delivered. Two people kept those machines going back-to-back the whole time. Each of us had our assigned roles and it worked out beautifully. Toward the end of the final night, we ran out of bottled water but had a long line of hopeful coffee drinkers waiting for a cup. We started approaching the kids to tell them they may not want to wait in line because we might not have any left to serve. Their inevitable response was, “But you might?” One brave soul asked why we didn’t use the water from the big tanks? Jane matter-of-factly asked if they were talking about the ones where everyone was washing their hands and sometimes puking. “Would they be comfortable with our getting water from there?” Everyone in line readily agreed; and we obliged. The water we had sampled when we first arrived, was so gross tasting because they were shocking the tanks to kill any bacteria and make potable. Go figure. All in all, it was a memorable event.