After flying out to Las Angeles once to interview for a job, i came home and packed up my car and gave away most of my personal belongings and hit the road. Ian accompanied me, since he was going to probably work for the same company i was and also held the urge to get the fuck out of Memphis as i did. We had arranged for a place to stay in Dallas with one of Ian's aim friends(he didn't mention he had never met her in real life) and we took off. With Bad Fish playing on the stereo, we set sail. The first leg of the drive was a small one, only 9 hours to Dallas. We arrive, call Trisha on her cellphone and get directions to her house. We follow them from a gas station near their house and as soon as we walked in I knew this was going to be a interesting evening. Imagine this if you can, a apartment full of people, most of them just staring at the walls and floor, listening to very loud Trance in the dark with a strobe light as the only source of light.
After Ian gets everyone to tell him the drugs they were on, I sat down on the floor and was instantly handed a joint. This is what you would define as a rave cave, children. I stayed up most of the night smoking with a bunch complete strangers that were on more drugs then i could have ever imagined. After i purchased 2 exteremly potent hits of LSD from them, Ian told me that he was going to sleep. They escort us to a empty room that was “the cat's room” and gave us both pillows and blankets. I tried to fall asleep with the rave music blaring in my ears and tried to get comfortable sleeping when i finally decide to just go see what was going on in the other room. I sat, still exteremly stoned and watched Trisha and one of her friends take nitrous hits from whip cream containers in time to the rave music. Very bizarre. I finally fall asleep.
We wake up bright and early, shower and begin the deadly Day 2 of the drive to California. As we look for Trisha and her friends to say goodbye, we hear a chinking sound from the bedroom. We think “Oh, their eating cereal” but when we walk in we realize that that sound is not a spoon in a bowl of Frosted Flakes. It was really just the sound of a razor breaking out lines of cocaine on a plate. Not being the breakfast type, Ian and i say our goodbyes and hit the road. We drive and drive and end up stopping at a gas station for lunch. After chowing down some very unappealing gas station pizza, we continue. After about a hour Ian turns to me and says “Well maybe if we only take half a hit each, we won't be too twisted to drive.” Then at mile 135, I agree, reach down and eat half. Then after about a hour of waiting we decide to eat the rest. This probably wasn't a good idea.
Now like all good hallucinogens, it took a while to hit but when it did it was like God had parted the clouds and smiled down upon us. To this day, i have never found acid as strong as that. And of course, i eat it in my goddamn car. As soon as the effects started to take, we pull over to a random small gas station somewhere in Texas. We run in, Toad wearing his dad's fedora hat, sunglasses and his Stream name badge pinned to his shirt, looking for orange juice to heighten the effects of the already powerful blotter paper. We stood in line, toad watching the fake marble floor dance to a unknown beat when Ian taps me on the shoulder and points at a Gooey Tongue candy package. I punch him and tell him not to show me that shit when we get up to the counter. Ian looks up at the lady, pupils dilated and asks, sounding as stupid as possible, “Where are we?” The lady answers, we pay for our orange juice and vamp.
We drive, sorting through my cd's trying to find any music that is acid friendly when we have to stop for gas again. We're now deep in the heart of Texas and we stop at a non chain gas station again. We jump out of the car, Ian runs in to buy orange juice and water and i pump gas into my melting car. A few minutes later Ian runs out with a brown paper bag and a frantic look on his face and says “Go go go.” Apparently while inside the gas station, the locals kinda freaked Ian out. He said that they would talk to him in English then immediately turn and ramble something off in Spanish. It would have faced with me too. We speed out of the gas station and get back on the road again. We stare completely encompassed by the beauty of the desert and mountains and were totally blown away by the most beautiful sunset of our lives.
As the sun was setting, we pull over to get more gas at this very erie looking Texaco that was positioned on top of a huge cliff overlooking the interstate. I start pumping the gas and ian walks in to make a phone call. I stumble into the bathroom, stare at the dancing graffiti on the walls ad try to pee out some of the evil LSD. We hop back in the car, Ian asks what i want to listen to, i reply that i don't care so he opens up his cd case and pulls out The Wall by Pink Floyd.
The goddamn Wall. He thought it fit the scene, being all calm and peaceful but God did he choose poorly. I was okay until the line where Roger Waters screams “WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE ME FLY!?! WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE ME TRY?!”. Now when tripping, you can understand energy levels a lot more then when you're sober and most importantly, your own energy levels. Mine had been kinda dragging after listening to Aenima and doubt started to flood my mind. And that one line roared by Roger pushed me into the bad place. I tell Ian i think it's time for him to drive, i pull over and he takes the reins of the mighty Horemobile. I sit, curled up in a ball in the front seat, hat pulled down low, just staring out into the darkness, completely terrified. We pull over again at a gas station/Subway and i sit down at a booth. Sitting there, Fedora hat still on, listening to Brittany Spears play over the speakers, staring at the guy in the booth across from me who was obviously staring at me.
Ian suggests that i try to eat something so i purchase a bag of Smartfood Popcorn and just sit there with a scared look on my face until ian returns with his meatball sub. I buy a 2 liter of milk, which would stop the effects of the acid and we drive off. Ian reminds me to keep note of the taste of the milk to make sure it doesn't go sour because food poisoning and LSD probably don't mix very well.
We drive on, toad curled up in a ball in the front seat when we pull over again to pee. Of course, we pick the most fucked up gas station to stop at. Outside they had all these fur products hanging from racks and inside they were selling boots and hats and all kinds of weird things made from the fur of various animals. Not something you wanna see while coming down off of acid. I tell Ian that i don't think i can go in there, he insists i can and i crawl out of the car and walk slowly in. I shuffle in, noticing that i can't feel my feet walking on the floor, pee and run out of that awful place, probably scaring everyone there.
Finally, the milk takes effect and i'm no longer scared. However, the strychnine that acid uses to push the LSD to your spinal column was still there. We drive for hours and hours in the desert, listening to Second Hand Smoke on repeat and spirits were high. The cool desert air was soothing and it felt like we could drive forever. But after another 6-7 hours i was having difficulties seeing and we stop in Flagstaff. We glide into a very nice hotel, the only one there, and ask for a room. The lady informs us that she can't rent a room to anyone under 21. This is bad. Fortunately, Ian trumps her with his fake id and we get a room. Thank god, because at this point we were both so mentally tired that we probably would have slept under the chairs in their lobby if they hadn't gave us a room. Since i'm not a veteran tripper, i laid awake for hours trying to fall asleep and staring at Ian who fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. I remember considering suffocating his sound asleep ass with that same pillow because i was so jealous that he could just fall asleep while i laid awake staring at the ceiling wondering if i was ever going to sleep again.
We wake up, shower and depart on the last leg of the drive. We arrive in LA that evening, got drunk and slept very well. I would later dose again on that same drive on the way back from LA since i felt like i had been defeated the previous time, having to drink milk. The moral of this story? Do not eat LSD in your car. Ever. Do not try this at home. Well, try it at home, just don't try it in your car.