Know what I miss?

I miss the marshmallow fights that used to break out in the crowd at Dead shows. They'd pop up out of nowhere, a sudden giant blizzard of soft puffy marshmallows flying everywhere. And then just as suddenly, they were gone, save for a few sticky ones covered with grass or gravel at your feet. There was no better symbol of the harmless, childlike, gleeful spirit of fun at a show than those marshmallow fights.

Once, in Las Vegas, someone got ahold of a zillion packages of mini corn tortillas, and a tortilla fight broke out. That might have been even better than the marshmallow fights, actually, because tortillas cannot be hurled--they must be sailed like floppy frisbees. It looked like a miniature spaceship invasion, and it also came out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. "What the..."