One winter's night in the depths of the President Carter era energy crisis three tripping buddies and I stepped inside a donut shop. We were ravenous for confectionary goods. There was an older gent manning a stool and sipping coffee and a middle aged counter woman standing at the register. It was very still and the colors were saturated and it seemed as if we'd entered an Edward Hopper painting called The Night Clerk. One of us told the woman we'd like a dozen donuts. She pointed to a red plastic latticework basket atop an adjacent display case. There were two donut-holes in it. "That's all we've got," she said. "You're welcome to them." In that moment we noticed all the empty shelves and took in what was abundantly clear: we were in a donut shop without any donuts. She had to be on to us. "Come on," said one of us to the woman. "You know were tripping. Right?" She arched an eyebrow and a wave of apprehension passed through us. Oops. We stammered "Never mind," turned around, and exited. We were soon in a fit of laughter over our silly question and the fact that reality had played a trick on us.
LSD or acid as we called it back then was two dollars a hit and quite often came in the form of a quarter inch by quarter inch paper square with an aspirin size dot in the center. There were also times when the dot was exceedingly small and the hit of acid was called Micro Dot. Sometimes the paper square was colored something other than white and had a name corresponding to the color like Purple Haze or Pink Jesus. Once in a while the paper had an image on it, usually a Disney character such as Goofy or Mickey Mouse in sorcerer garb and wielding a magic wand. Sometimes the little square was plastic and called Window Pane. Acid also came in pill form and was about one fourth the size of a Tic Tac. Orange Sunshine was barrel shaped. Purple Pyramid was the 3 D shape of its name. But no matter what the particulars of the acid the results were always the same. About an hour after "dropping" a hit the altered state fun began. And with it came the weirdness.
Franky and I were hallucinating like crazy in a world turned unbalanced and liquified when we decided to head for the safety of his bedroom. It was painted entirely black with day-glow stars and space-ships that glowed and pulsated when viewed with a black-light. It was dusk and we'd almost made it to his house when five children appeared out of nowhere. Their arms were outstretched and they called in unison, "Satan, Satan..." I plunged instantly into a Children of The Damned paranoia. Never had such evilness existed. I didn't know what to do. I looked to Franky, but he was as I frozen in place. Surely we were about to die. I could barely breathe. Then the kids german-sheppard came to their calling.
Another dusk acid had me enthralled in the mysteries of the moment while at a spot in the woods where friends and I partied. As I hallucinated and saw the world anew in pretty shapes and colors a cohort kicked apart a rotting log revealing hundreds of agitated ants. I suddenly felt all creepy crawly. The log kicker poured gas out of a plastic gallon jug onto the ants and gave it light. The flames leaped and the burning ants writhed. I squirmed in simpatico. The log kicker sloshed more gas on to the fire and the flames shot up the sloshed out gas. The top of the jug was instantly alight. He jerked the jug back towards himself to blow out the flames. When he did so gas splashed out of the jug and on to his head. And in that moment his head was engulfed in flames as if he were a human match-stick. He dropped to the ground and rolled out the flames but not before the fire had singed his hair, eyelids, and eyebrows. It was a frightful sight. I spent the rest of the night staring with due diligence into the devious flames of our subsequent camp-fire.
Years earlier. One gloomy, damp, and cold morning after the bus drop us off at the parking-lot of Kosciusko Jr. High School a friend and I each copped a hit of acid and headed off for parts unknown. About two and a half hours later after standing around shivering and waiting for the acid to kick in with no results we decided to return to school and get our money back. When I opened the doors to the school I was hit with a blast of warm air. It was as if someone flicked a switch. My legs went wobbly beneath me. I had to grab a railing in order to remain upright. I was inexplicably tripping my ass off. And so was my friend. We giggled and decided what the hell we might as well stay were it was warm. I believe that was the day I later saw Mr. Pasternak's nose fall off. And everything was fun and games.
Years later. I had a classic bad trip. Some forty minutes or so after I dropped the two and a half hits of acid I felt that emptiness in my stomach that announced a heavy trip ahead. Soon I was down the rabbit hole and the world was oozing and wobbling all around me. I made the mistake of looking into a mirror. In doing so I discovered what CIA operatives had known for decades: You can easily break the mind of someone unstable with hounding questions and a liberal dose of LSD. My subconscious was my cruel and viscous interrogator that night. As it howled at me I saw before me in my reflection every vile sin I'd ever committed. I looked on in horror as my face morphed into ever more hideous grotesqueries. With herculean effort I pried myself away from my reflection. But it was too late, for I knew with every fiber of my being that I was more putrid than a rotting corpse. And the night had just begun. In the horrific hours that followed I screeched at myself and ran a gauntlet of hallucinated ghouls and demons. The experience left me shellshocked and jumpy for many years to come. And although it was heavy price to pay for chemically induced wonderment I still look back with fondness on those years of hallucinations and weirdness.
9
Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of nothing, nothing nothing
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