I knew that the day would come when I wouldn't have access to Wi-Fi. I wasn't quite sure what the worst part about that day would be. However I’m very self aware that I'm a spoiled Gen Z, that can't spend a day without Internet.
This story is about drugs. Of course, as an aspiring lawyer, I would never incriminate myself by publicly admitting to illegal drug use! For the purposes of this story, lets say I was using aspirin. I promise this will make sense, but first let me set the scene.
It was 1994, I had just returned from Mormon camp, hating life, as I was forced to go by my strict, abusive & negligent parents. Kurt Cobain had committed suicide & my Jr High School was just devastated. Kurt was the voice & the hero for my friends & myself . For me, Kurt's lyrics were a way for me to escape in my mind space, the years of verbal & physical abuse that was in my household. He understood me, his words were a blanket of comfort to me. I couldn't physically escape anywhere; I was forced to go to Mormon classes weekly. My mother, after her second divorce, became a single parent with 5 children, trying to work to support a family alone. Because of this, I would be left home alone to watch my 4 younger siblings ALL THE TIME.... I mean, I was only a kid & was forced with abuse, to watch children, when I should have had that time period to be a teenager. This may seem to be a common thread in households with cultish like religious followers, who have more children than they are capable of taking care of, but I digress. Then, it was off to school, also learning viola at that time, all while acting “normal”, like I wasn’t being broken at home. Amongst all the stress that I had as a child & teenager, Nirvana's music along with loads of Alternative rock at that time, was my safe zone. But the music can only take a person so far in their own mind, when a home life was always in shambles.
It was the summer before my first year of college that I began to frequent a dispensary, off Main Street, Chula Vista. This dispensary was a temple of divine energy in my eyes. The bright green neon numbers encompassing the outside wall. The roasted smell of cannabis that filled both outside and inside. The weird white dude that stood in-front, (probably high as fuck), waving an affirmation sign that read, “You’re Here”. As if I was too high to recognize my own temple. Bitch, I knew where I was. I got stoned quite a ton this summer. One can almost argue that I smoked a literal ton of weed, and the best part of it all was that I was actually getting all my marihuana goodies at an establishment rather than some shady dude named Jerry who sold out of his shitty Honda civic. I want weed sir, not Hepatitis C.
If you thought this was going to be about the 5 places to visit while you're in 'Barthelona' then you're sadly mistaken. Also do you not read titles? How would I make it to 'Barthelona' during a crazy time like this!?
I idolized my oldest brother Ron, and whenever he was around, I begged him to let me hang out with him. He was always smiling, with his characteristic “cat that ate the canary" grin under his blond wavy hair. I could be persistent, and I succeeded in talking my way into rides in his blue Volkswagen van. Ron would stick a Paul Butterfield Blues Band eight-track tape into the player and I was in seventh heaven. I loved the sound of the blues. I would tag along, following him to places like the Mystic Arts World, a metaphysical bookstore, hippie boutique, and head shop on Pacific Coast Highway in Laguna Beach. It was the epicenter of the psychedelic world and one of the first head shops in existence.
Jordan and I are on our way towards Santa Monica, which was about a 20 min drive from el matador beach. Now, we are still tripping on acid and driving wasn't the best decision but I decided to drive anyway, not thinking about what could happen. Anyway, we are coasting down PCH as the sun is setting, it is perhaps one the best sites to have in the west coast. It was so good of a site I swerved a little off the road. After I did that I remembered "oh shit, I'm on acid." So Jordan was dj and I rolled down my window and tried to concentrate as hard as I could. Before I swerved off the road I don't even know how long I was driving for. I was just driving off muscle memory. I was literally just following everything the car ahead of me was doing. I wasn't sober but I felt like I was sober enough to continue driving. I was so focused on driving I don't remember anything else from the car ride. I don't remember what songs were being played or if I was having a conversation with Jordan or not. But we finally start to see the pier. It was gorgous. All the lights and by the time we had arrived it was sundown so the lights stood out even more. It hit me again, I'm still on acid. We had stopped at a red light to make a left into a parking garage and all I could see was the red fluorescent brake light in front of me. It felt like I was looking at it forever but it was probably just a couple minutes. We made it. We made it safeley to Santa Monica and the first thing we did was go to the promenade mall. We walk the first the floor and the first store I see, the Disney store. I ran as fast as I could towards the escalator to get to the second floor. Jordan is behind trying to catch up. I felt like a kid again. I have never felt so happy to go to a store. I walk in and I was greeted with the most friendly face, welcoming me into the store. I was so happy looking at all the toys and to top it off there was a bench and infront was a screen playing classic disney animations. I was the happiest I've ever been and then I look slightly to the left and I saw a white lady on her phone. All the enjoyment stopped right there. All I though was "she's calling the cops! She knows." I got up with the quickness and got Jordan and told hit that we needed to go. But he calmed me down and and I started looking at the toys again and letting the upbeat happy music takeover. I got in line, not knowing what I was going to purchase and then there it was. Hanging there was a the perfect backpack. It was a red backpack with the old mickey mouse all over it and next to it were lion king pins, which is my favorite disney movie by the way. It was all set up so perfect for me. It was meant to be. I don't remember how the transaction went all I know is that I wore the backpack for the rest of the night. I was a little kid again skipping around and so happy, until we got to the pier. It felt like everyone was looking at me. Before I wasn't making eye contact with people. I was looking above them but I just felt everyone looking at me and it was scary. It felt like everyone was plotting against me. I told Jordan and he said he felt the same way. The further we walked the worse it got and there it was. A mexican in a trump mask singing in spanish. It was so disturbing to see I couldn't bare to look at him again. I wasn't offended, I didn't feel no way, just disturbed but after that as we were talking towards the end of the pier, we started to sober up and feel normal. Whatever that means. It was the end of our trip and it was a hell of an expience. I don't recall every detail but from what I do remember, I refelct and look at them as a something i can learn about myself
When I was growing up, I was told NO. No to drugs, for they are dangerous and can get you into a lot of trouble. Weed was a drug. When I was young, I was at a party where a scary situation happened that involved marijuana. I was sleeping over in a house where someone was caught smoking a joint, and someone else was very much not okay with it, and they freaked out, resulting in lots of yelling. To my young ears, this fight was scary. I just remember yelling and having to leave. That's my first experience with cannabis.
The art, the craft, the beauty of psychedelics is what stirs this teapot that I have brewing. Care for a cup? Many people reach their higher being in many forms of meditation and have different ways of ‘looking within’. Some of these include tai chi, vipassana, mindfulness, and loads of other remedial hacks to staying human without the extra chip of elitism, or what I like to call passive person disorder. We all know that one person that just fudges up the Feng shai of shit for no other reason than they can’t control their impulsive, unnecessary contribution to society like a cough, unsolicited, or any other anxious tendencies.
I finally gather myself after being pulled back in from the tide. Everything is soaking wet. My shoes, my backpack, everything. But I made it to the other side. The first thing I saw was two teenage girls taking selfies and looking at me all crazy. Probably because I was screaming for my dear life. I made it to the other side, but where is Jordan. I threw all my belogings on the floor and fled back into the scene. In the most dramatic way I started yelling Jordan's name. From around the corner I could here a faint voice yelling my name back. I would yell and then he would yell. This continued for a minute or so. Until I made it back around the corner and I see Jordan stuck, high onto the wall, scared out of his mind. Luckily, the life guards from before had just finished doing thier parameter search and they caught us in the need of help. So, they give Jordan that one red thing that lifeguards always carry. Now, because we were tripping balls, maybe, just maybe we were overreating. I say that because the life guard was standing straight in the cave, walking his way through with the water up to his waist. But I truly did believe I escaped death. Anyway, Jordan made it to the other side with the floaty from the lifeguard. As soon as they finished helping us. They just told us to have a nice day and left. We didn't think much of it. All we knew is that we had escaped death. We sat there and looked at eachother and all we could do was laugh. But crying and laughing. So scared but we're tripping too so its the funniest thing in the world. We were sat there for a good 10 minutes trying to gather ourselves but just couldn't stop laughing. I was so scared my hands woudn't stop shaking. I finally made that push and I said "Alright, I need to smoke until I stop shaking". We gather our stuff and start heading back to the car. The only thing I could think was that we really survived. We make it to the car and guess who we see in the parking lot. The lifeguards. They had just finished thier shift after saving our lives. They shot us the hang loose sign they were on thier way. We finally made it to the car and I'm still uncontrollably shaking. I had trouble opening the door. I get in and go straight for the weed. All I had was my piece. I couldn't even pack myself a bowl because I was shaking so much. Jordan had to do it for me. He packs me a few bowls until I calm down. After like five bowls I was good. He told me he would be right back, he had to use the restroom. So I turned the car on to listen to music and put on an album I was in love with at the time. I played The mansions and the song "wicked" started to play. At first, it was cool, I was just vibing out. All of a sudden I got taken away by the music. My eyes closed and a whole video started playing in my head. There isn't a video for the song, I just made a whole video up in my head. I could hear every little tweak there was to produce it, I could hear thier vocals so clearly. It was so just beautiful. I started to get teary eyed. Different colors started to take over and words and random images started to come across my mind. It was all happening so fast the only thing I could comprehend was how the colors matched the tone of the song. I'm laying back with the car on with my eyes closed being blown away by this music. I felt the color blue, and I felt orange and then it started turning red. For some reason, I didn't like red. I tried to think of blue again and red kept coming. Later, that color will become of significance, but at the moment I was not liking it and I opened my eyes and there was Jordan, several feet away from the car. He enters the passenger side and I tell him right away about the amazing expience I just had. He told me to put on the song again but it wouldn't have been the same. It was one of those in the moment kind of things. But we're still tripping and we don't know what to do next. "How about Santa Monica?" I don't remeber who brought it up but it seemed like a great idea at the time so away we went.
High me thinks this is a great idea. Except that I have a bottle of Topo Chico sitting RIGHT NEXT TO MY LAPTOP. Oh dear cat, I’m such an anxious nerd. Even high on, I had to get up to look at the box to remember the name of it, Apple Jack. But before I made it back to my computer, I decided to take a photo of my son’s Mario Doll. But not just a photo of my son’s Mario Doll, a photo of him eating pudding to send to my son’s dad’s phone so he could show my son. Not only that, but I then decided that I need to eat a snack. It’s only 11am, but maybe an early lunch type snack. So, I made frozen waffles. While they were cooking in the microwave, yes, the microwave, I sang a song to my cat. Because I had decided that I didn’t need a fork this time, I would then sing to my cat a song that went like this, “I don’t need no fork! I don’t need no fo-ork! I don’t need no fork!” My cat did not appreciate this song. When I finally came back to my computer, I noticed that after all of that, I didn’t bother to move my Topo. Also, I technically forgot the name of the strain I was smoking and had to go look at the box ONE MORE TIME until just now. Now it’s time for sticky fingers covered in honey.
It was a summer day of 2018 and my good friend Jordan and I had planned to drop acid at the beach. It would be my first time and it would be his second. I've always been curious what acid was like. I've always heard stories, good and bad but I decided to create my own story.