I gave my friend three dollars to buy the doobie and that Friday, he spent the night and that Saturday we were to smoke the joint. We stayed up Friday night looking at the joint, smelling it, holding it and talking about it. Well, the next day arrived and I called my friend Ken (a.k.a Buck, Bucky or Buck Baldy) who lived down the street from me, to join us. We set out deep into the woods behind my house to a place where we typically smoked cigarettes, drank a stolen beer or two, and looked at porno magazines. We commenced in the joint smoking and, for the first few puffs, I didn't feel a thing. It was probably about a minute latter and I began to feel very weird. Colors seemed brighter and I felt really happy. It reminded me of when I got the gas at the dentist. I started laughing and I couldn't stop. I was running around and spinning and talking like a maniac. Bill was just laughing and Buck seemed real quiet and scared. I kept asking Buck if he was high and he kept saying he was but, I don't think he inhaled. Buck was a year younger than us and was kind of a mamma's boy. His mom, Raye Ann (a.k.a. Big Mamma Rotchy Crotch) was fat and very over protective of Buck, so I think he was scared to get high. So, I spent most of my high spinning around, falling down and laughing. Nothing major happened there.
* Side note on Ken. Ken's last name was Kenney. So, his real name was Kenneth Kenney and some people called him Kenney Kenney. His dad's name was also Kenney Kenney and any sane person would think why in the hell would some one name thier kid something that stupid AGAIN. I just called him Buck normally unless, I really wanted something from him, then I would call him Ken. End side note.*
After that first joint, I was labeled cool in school and by other kids. I became the quintessential "burn out". I had a nice long mullet, heavy metal t-shirts, blue jeans, beat up old Nike tennis shoes and a blue jean jacket with a Metallica Kill 'em All stitch-on back patch. My jean jacket always smelled like cigarettes and fresh weed. My eyes were frozen in a squint and were fire engine red. I had arrived.
Along with the weed other drugs became available to me like acid or LSD, opium, magic mushrooms, and various gases.
Acid was never a problem other than having the shit scared out of me by bad trips and hallucinations. I did acid every weekend for about two years. At first we would walk about five miles to the shopping mall, where we would walk up to any hippie looking person and say "Got any doses?" This was usually followed by a short trip to the food court bathroom where the money was exchanged for the little paper squares. Funny thing is that all of those time walking up to complete strangers, I never got ripped off, sold fake acid, or busted by the cops. After a while, we had a regular guy that we could get the acid from but, in a pinch a trip to the mall always got us what we were looking for.
The first time I did acid was in nineth grade at school, which I do not reccomend. I had heard a rumor that a certain kid was in excess supply of LSD that he was trying to get rid of. I had heard about acid and was kind of apprehensive at first but, so many people I knew (including girls) had been doing it, that it seemed safe enough. So, I bought a tab from the preppie kid who looked like Dean Martin, and put in my mouth quick. It cost me five dollars. The acid was called Woodstock and had a little picture of the bird Woodstock from the Peanuts cartoon printed on it.
About a half hour later during homeroom, while staring at my hands, I started to trip. Everything had tracers and was glowing with a white aura around it including people. The extremely loud class bell rang and it was time for first period. I couldn't remember which class I had next so I wandered around until I remembed I had science in the room I was just in. I got there late. I spent science class drawing a pattern that I kept seeing in my head that looked like this. I kept tracing over and over until the class was over. When the extremely loud class bell rang I went out into the hall and everyone was walking so fast I didn't know what to do. It was like trying to cross the freeway. I started walking until I homed in on someone I recognized. I told him I was on acid and he started to wave his hands in front of me asking if I saw tracers. I screamed "Yes! Stop doing that!" I talked to him for a little bit and he told me I had math class next period. I ran to math class and sat in my desk. I was staring at my homework that looked like Egyptian hieroglyphs to me. When the teacher, Mr. Antonin, came in he looked very funny and I started to laugh at him. The classroom had a brown chalkboard and Mr. Antonin used yellow chalk to write on it. I handed in my homework and then the lesson began. Mr. Antonin (a.k.a. Dickey Antonin) spoke in an extremely loud, high pitched monotone. He wrote on the chalkboard furiously fast which produced a disticnt clicking sound when the chalk contacted the chalkboard. It sounded like he was playing the spoons. Dickey had brown pants and a brown shirt with a yellow tie on that day. His pants had yellow chalk dust on them, in fact he always had chalk dust on his pants. Now, here is how I saw it: Mr. Antonin got up from his desk and his brown shirt and brown pants melted into the brown chalkboard. He was now just a floating head, with a yellow tie and floating hands, flying around the chalkboard yelling stuff and writing hieroglyphics with yellow tracers flowing off everything. This was about ten minutes into the class and I was obviously peaking in my trip. I yelled "I am getting outta here!" and ran out of class leaving my books behind and headed straight for my locker. It took me about fifty tries to get the combination on my locker right so it would open, I was in a panic. I got my locker open, grabbed my coat and ran for the exit door. On the way, I went into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. When I opened the door I encountered another kid who had taken acid that day, John Hanneson (a.k.a. Ducky because his face looked like a duck and he walked like one). Ducky was in the bathroom lighting the paper towels in the trash can on fire and smoking a cigarette. I told Ducky I was tripping and that I was getting the hell out of here. While I was talking to him, Ducky was hitting the burning paper towel on the sink and red sparks were flying off everywhere and it looked like fireworks. Ducky said he would go with me and we ran for the doors. We ran from the school (it wasn't neccessary to run but we were tripping) and ended up behind a shopping plaza close to the school by a dumpster. We didn't want to run far since both lived miles from the school and we didn't want to miss our buses. Niether one of us had a watch so we didn't know what time it was. I spent the rest of my trip hiding next to a dumpster, smoking cigarettes and burning the weeds growing up through the crack in the pavement behind the plaza, saying "Wow" everytime one of the weeds would shrivel up from the heat of the flame. Eventually we went into a variety store in the shopping plaza that was keen on selling cigarettes and lighters to underage kids to find out what time it was. We found out we had about 2 minutes to catch our buses and we ran back to the school. I got on the wrong bus at first and then found the right one. I saw Buck and sat next to him. He told me that he had heard I "freaked out" and I confirmed this to be true. I went home and immediately went over Buck's house and clued him in on all the details of my acid trip. He seemed skeptical but, he found out later that LSD actually does make you hallucinate and freak out. I think I fell in love with acid for those two years, even after more than a few bad trips. It was easy to do and you didn't smell like you do when you drink. You could smoke a pound of weed and not get high or drink a case of beer and not get drunk. For a short time while while I was on acid, I knew all the secrets of the universe and actually saw them. I saw god, Satan, Medusa, a flying clown, a giant wolf and many other things. Regrets? I have none.