What Would Your Nickname Be At The Grateful Dead Show?

Blissed out, spaced out, and moving to your own groove, even Deadheads think you're a bit too chill. You're the type to throw down a tie-dyed blanket on the ground, sit on it in the lotus position, and get so comfy you forget to go to the concert. Oh well. At least you never forget to throw the peace sign at everyone who passes by. Peace, Sunshine Daydream!

You are the kind of person who other deadheads look to when they need a sober ride, or someone to talk to the cops, or to know what day it is. How do you always know what day it is? Are you a human calendar or something? You keep it steady, ready, and not too heady. You could relax for a bit, though, and you might find that you'd actually have a pretty fine time. Keep on truckin', Casey Jones. Watch your speed, though.

Blossoms are blooming and you are all about flowers, peace, love, and light. You've got sunshine in your eyes and music in your soul. And you know what? Anyone who is not about peace and love is a bummer, man. You tell them so, but you do it with a peace sign and the offer of a free hug. No one can resist one of your free hugs. Stay sweet, Sugar!

When the first jangly notes from the stage hit your ears, the music enters your nervous system, and you must move your arms, legs, and backbone all in different directions, but all keeping the same, strange beat that unites life, the Universe and everything else. At a moment that only you and your kind understand, you will begin to spin wildly until it is time to stop. Whirl on, Dervish. Whirl on.

You are the type of person to show up at the Dead show in the same clothes you wear to casual Friday at the office. You don't know why everyone wants a miracle, or asks you to be kind. Oh, and why does everyone twirl at the same time? And how the heck can they dance to this music anyway? And why does everyone keep calling you Narco? None of it makes sense, Marco. It's a Dead show.

Huh? What's that? No. You have no idea why everyone at the Dead show calls you Weedy. You also have no idea where your lighter is, what day it is, how your dog can speak to you, and who that guy is over there and why he keeps looking at you like he's reading your mind. If he could read your mind, all he'd see is ripples in still water and the recipe for a yummy, yummy bean burrito. Stay kind, Weedy!