One time I was seventeen years old. It seems like a long ass time ago, but it really wasn't. You see, as we grow older, time loses its meaning, and twenty years seems like yesterday. This was 1989 and anything was still possible. I was on my own (except for the ones who were helping me out) and was totally into psychedelic drugs. I had many friends back then, because when you're using drugs, friends come easy. It doesn't matter if one friend is a hippy and another is a skinhead. You always have the chems in common. Anyway, this particular night, some of my friends got a hold of some of the most pure and potent acid I have ever known... we dubbed this particular strain of LSD... Pink MicroMites. the micro in the name came from the fact that these hits were about 1/3 the size of typical hits of blotter acid. The potency, however, was off the charts!
Earlier in the night, I was at the house of a friend of mine, drinking Bacardi rum and smoking weed. By the time the Pink MicroMites showed up, all inhibition was gone, and I was ready for the next level! The delivery boy explained to me that I didn't want to take three of these at once. Of course I was seventeen at the time and explained to him that I could handle anything he could throw my way, purity be damned! he reluctantly tore off three hits and I promptly ate them.
It's a funny thing waiting for acid to take effect. You can tell from the moment you take it whether or not it's good. When it is good, you get a shiver down your spine once the tab touches your tongue (and man did I get a shiver)! After that you try to stay occupied for the next twenty - forty five minutes until it takes full effect. This particular night, it kicked in on the way home.
The driver was using as well. We pulled up to an on ramp when he suddenly stopped and surveyed what lay ahead. I imagine that while we were parked in the middle of the road, that he was contemplating the pros and cons of using the highway to get us home as opposed to the back roads. He was probably wondering what would happen if he was pulled over. what could he tell the police while I was drooling in the back seat laughing uncontrollably while reading Garfield comics? How would he explain to a traffic cop that we were just good average kids returning home from a long night of punch and cookies while I was rolling around on the floor boards jabbering about sex with his family members? I like to think he had all these things in mind, but I remember looking up and noticing that he was staring at the street lamps. I knew that whenever his eyes involuntarily adjusted, it would leave a large trail, and then another, and another, and so on until he was seeing nothing but streaks of light highlighted by flashing colors like some sort of twisted neon carnival. At that point driving anywhere would no longer be an option. Our safety, his own included, was the furthest thing from his mind at this point...or was it? He stared at those bright lights for what seemed like an eternity, then calmly turned his head toward the back seat, looked me dead in the eye, shook his head slowly and said "no." He then proceeded to back up off the ramp, turn the car around, and make us disappear into the deep, dark, and relatively safe side roads.
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