Zero to Paradise

We spent nearly two years fully intending to emerge as better, more environmentally responsible and economically equitable inhabitants of Earth.

To be fair. The collective “we” almost did okay until we remembered how much fun it is to experience music and art with lots of other people! Everyone had gotten tired of being so damned serious all the time. American excesses were set to level up.

“Party at the Keys”

The person who named this loosely organized event wasn’t the most creative but the whole idea took off to become a movement. Celebrities, musicians, performers, chefs, breweries and corporate cannabis took over the Florida Keys to create the world’s most epic week-long celebration of living. Not unlike a Burning Man, but slightly more mainstream, less dusty and on islands.

I couldn’t have been farther from this once in a lifetime event. Not only was it the party of the century, but it was in the Florida Keys! How in the world is an unemployed 19-year-old in Klamath Falls, Oregon going to make it to the islands off Florida?

Hopefully, you didn’t miss the part that I lived in Oregon. Many of the hippies from the 1960s were on their way out to the great beyond, but their kids and grandkids carry on the traditions of nomadic living, sex, drugs and artistic endeavors. I rode my bike over to where I knew the hippies parked their buses. This whole crazy idea was coming together on a whim. It was the most exhilarating thing I had seriously considered doing in my whole life.

“Hey. Do you know if anyone around is leaving soon and going East?” I asked a group of happily dirty-looking kids playing with a chicken and a grasshopper in the road.

“Zero is. Over there in the purple bus,” said a shirtless blonde kid. They pointed the way with an outstretched dirty finger.

It wasn’t a full-sized bus, but it was a nice looking one, so that made me feel a little less intimidated. I knocked on the door and the guy that came out wasn’t at all who I was expecting. He looked more like a grouchy tattooed soldier than a peace-loving hippy living in a bus.

I introduced myself and excitedly told him all about what I was up to.

With the biggest most friendly and genuine smile you ever saw he replied, “Whoa lil brutha! You’re telling me you have no money, no drivers license, no worldly experience whatsoever and you want to ride along with me as far east as I can get you so you can go party on some tropical islands?”

Suddenly realizing how silly I sound I weakly replied, “Yes?”

“Fuck’in A!!!” He boomed “A righteous and proper adventure for the little man! I’m wrapping up my loose ends here and hitting the road the day after tomorrow. I’ll be pulling out by 10am. If you aren’t here, I’ll assume you changed your mind.”

My folks aren’t bad at all. I’ve been to Disneyland and have had a perfectly unremarkable, uninteresting, no-adventure-having life. Like every other teenager when they came out of the lockdown, I had been ripped off of making the biggest and most forgivable mistakes of life. My mom really lived life in her 20’s so she was supportive of me going. I mean, she was worried about all the usual mom stuff. Dad gave me a hug before I left and reminded me he wouldn’t be paying for any bail money.

I couldn’t wait until anywhere close to ten. I came walking up the purple short bus just a little after 8am.

“Little man! The big adventurer! You ready to hit the road? I got a couple things to go over before we set out.”

He was checking the latches on cabinets and making sure everything was stowed away.

“Come on in! I don’t work on a timeline so if you’re in a hurry, hop on off whenever the fancy strikes and we’ll meet again as friends later on down the road. Stir up any trouble and cause me any grief and we’ll part ways as strangers. I also don’t work on set plans. I think right now I’m headed for Denver, but I’ve been known to change course. I expect you not to eat too much since you don’t have any money of your own. I expect you to figure out how to chip in like a grown ass man without me having to bitch and nag like your mommy back at home. I get tired of that shit real quick and I don’t owe you nuthin’. Do we have an understanding?”

I was standing there listening to everything he said because I was scared about doing this and most definitely did not want to say the wrong thing. I instantly respected and trusted Zero. I mean, just by having a cool bus, tattoos and being a confident guy older than me; he was intimidating.

“You gonna say something or just stand there and look like that hamster ran off the wheel?” He asked. He must have been amused by the slack jawed expression on my baby face.

“Yes. I was listening. I mean, I feel like I’m still just a kid. When you say I need to help I understand what you mean, but I don’t really know how to do much of anything useful. Is that still okay?” I asked hoping he would still take me along.

“That’s the best goddamned answer anyone has given in all my time roaming. None of us know shit, kid. We know exactly zero. Always be open to new experiences. Set your stuff down, let’s get after it.”

Zero was the smartest guy I had ever met. He knew a little bit about everything and could learn anything in no time. We went down into Nevada when we left Oregon. I was probably a little on the quiet side as I took in the interior of the bus, looked out the window and listened to Zero chatter about this fun fact or that interesting tidbit about local native peoples. We passed through a seemingly empty desert for most of the day and the sun lowered behind us.

We hooked a right onto a gravel road I didn’t catch the name of. We pulled into a circle of other vehicles in varying states of newness and disrepair. Zero said it was called an “oasis.”

Everyone parked at this oasis called me “kid” except for Zero who had taken to calling me Adventure Man. The people were friendly, cleaner than I expected and generous with information as we got settled for our stay, however long that was going to be.

At night people gathered together and talked about exactly what you’d expect -- where they were going and where they had been.

We found ourselves sitting around a little fire with a handful of people smoking joints and passing them around. A few made comments about how happy they were to be able to do that again. They had missed the camaraderie of the circle during lockdown.

The talk about doing things together in groups devolved into a lively discussion of “Party at the Keys” and how it was going to be THE party of the first century of the 2000s. A new Woodstock, if you will. Mardi Gras and Burning Man with art and flotillas on the water and entertainment on the keys. You can make a raft out of whatever you want and just float in the tropical waters listening to the music drift over all the other boats. People will have finally gotten back together to truly live.

I slept on the homemade couch bed transformer thing that was opposite the small “kitchen.” It wasn’t yet daylight when I heard cupboards closing in the kitchen and a gas stove turned on.

“I’m sold! This party thing in Florida you all were yammering about last night. That’s where I need to be. It’s the first thing that’s made any goddamn sense in years! I thought about it and I’m in, Adventure Man. You awake?”

After some coffee, a couple hard boiled eggs and a banana we walked around the oasis and talked about going to Florida. After one night of smoking weed with this guy, I felt totally at ease. He already had his mind made up, it just seemed to make him feel better that I agreed.

“Since you ain’t never been anywhere and we have nowhere to be for a couple weeks, I propose we see some shit and you get to meet some of my people. Whaddaya say?” he asked beaming with enthusiasm.

The first logical stop was the Grand Canyon. Since I was 19 and we couldn’t go to Vegas and have any fun, I listened to Zero talk for hours about the materialism, shallowness, and glaring human nature that’s wrapped up in Vegas. He love-hates the place.

After Arizona it was Mesa Verde where I had my first “trip” and The Great Salt Lake where I met the prettiest woman I had ever seen up until that point. Then we popped over to Denver to hang out at a gallery with some pals for a few before jetting across Texas to Louisiana where we would go to New Orleans, a place I have been imagining my whole life. Zero had caught on to my enthusiasm about the place.

“You ever been in the south during Tornado season? Those thunderstorms will give you a boner the first few times. Hell, a big strong one still does!” He laughed over his shoulder from the driver’s seat and shook a firm fist in the air.

Just past Tyler, TX we got nailed by a hailstorm that dented the hell out of the roof of the bus. Zero was meticulous with the maintenance of his bus. He doesn’t seem to care about much, but the bus was important to him and that pock marked roof seemed to chafe his nerves. All of them.

In New Orleans, we stayed a few days so he could tend to the bus. I tried to help for a while without even being asked. He told me I had picked up on enough. Remember it and to go have experiences. Know something. He always kept going back to how he knows zero. He hasn’t even begun to get to one on the unlimited scale that is cosmic knowledge. It was weird when he would get like that. I spent most of my time not at the bus.

Everywhere I went from sampling real grits to lingering outside a bar hoping to catch a note of real southern blues, I overheard people talking about the party. You didn’t even have to have tickets to go! It was a movement gaining momentum. The farther south and closer to the start of the festival, the more bizarre and artistic boats and rafts being towed came through the highways headed in the same direction we were going.

My excitement continued to grow. This is the sort of life-changing event that sets the foundation for the remainder of a young person’s life!

“Adventure Man! The vessel is repaired, we may commence the voyage to fulfill your grand adventure. I need some cash flow so we’re taking some people along for the last leg of the trek.”

The last part of the ride down through Florida was hot and crowded and loud. Everyone in the van had their own vision of the party they had to share over everyone else loudly sharing their story. At some point a person started playing a djembe drum.

It was easy to tell when we were getting close to some kind of event. People were parking and/or camping anywhere there seemed to be a space. and cheerfully walking in the same direction. Zero pulled over as best he could to let everyone out.

“Hey kid. You’ll need a little something to have a good time and to know something. It has been my honor to journey with you. Travel well!” He was waving and shooing me out of the bus. As he drove away I looked down at the sheet of acid he had palmed me.

They said a couple million people went to the party. There were masses and masses of sunscreen shiny, burned and wasted people. Rafts, boats and vessels of all kinds floated near and far. The people were helpful and good natured. Everybody wanted to be there and just have a good time.

Thanks to Zero’s gift I was able to trade my way from island to island to catch the biggest bands and eat the best foods.

It was truly the wildest party in American history. We trashed the Florida keys and created a massive natural disaster in the waters around the islands with the fuel from boats, millions of people slathered in sunscreen, vomit, feces and other general garbage getting tossed over. There were a few drownings, too, as one would expect.

I have not ran into Zero in life again. Now, I’m on my way to the great beyond. Never did live in a bus. That wasn’t my path. I’m not sure I’ve ever known anything, either. My wild ride with Zero to the Party at the Keys has brought me joy all my life.

Be sure to check out my other short stories and pooping tips https://vocal.media/authors/d-cu4u2h0zjp