Let's Scare the Onions out of Each Other!
My buddy Adrian once had one of the coolest acid freakouts. We were living in a little studio apartment in Hoover, Alabama, just outside Birmingham. It was mid 1999, so we were both eighteen. There was a kind of mid-day party going on and there were about 343,953 people in the apartment. Everyone had taken at least some LSD but Adrian was the boss supremo acidhead around them parts, so he had guzzled about eighteen gallons of the stuff.
He was in our little walk-in closet, sitting on the floor and rocking back and forth while clutching a knife that was big enough to cut an elephant in half. And all day long he had been having visions of ex-girlfriends past as they floated around his head, talking about their feelings. He was in what we called a "tight spot." Nobody in their wrong minds thought it would be a good idea to give Adrian any more acid. Nobody but Adrian.
So the drug dealer who had sold us all our stuff just a few hours before comes back over to the apartment to hang out. Several of us told the guy that whatever he did, he was under no circumstances to sell Adrian more acid. But Adrian kept bellowing for the guy to meet him in the closet, and eventually the drug dealer walked cautiously to the entrance. He eyed the giant knife as Adrian threatened to de-ball the poor asshole and pop him like a bloated frog if he didn't go get some more acid, like, immediately. The drug dealer assured Adrian that he would get some more. Then he hauled ass out of the apartment and wasn't seen again. Until the next morning, when he did actually show up with more acid. By then, however, Adrian had started a nice little 48-hour nap
Did I mention this was the night we went to see The Matrix for the first time? Yeah.
Anyway, what have we learned from all this? Well, I know that I learned a little bit about perspective. No matter how bad you're freaking out, there's always someone who's lost their mind just a little more than you. Second, I'm extremely glad that, just a decade or so after all this happened, Adrian got clean and became a yoga instructor. Third, and possibly unrelated, I learned that pooping yourself is rarely appropriate, but when it is, it's good to know how to do it at will.
He was in our little walk-in closet, sitting on the floor and rocking back and forth while clutching a knife that was big enough to cut an elephant in half. And all day long he had been having visions of ex-girlfriends past as they floated around his head, talking about their feelings. He was in what we called a "tight spot." Nobody in their wrong minds thought it would be a good idea to give Adrian any more acid. Nobody but Adrian.
So the drug dealer who had sold us all our stuff just a few hours before comes back over to the apartment to hang out. Several of us told the guy that whatever he did, he was under no circumstances to sell Adrian more acid. But Adrian kept bellowing for the guy to meet him in the closet, and eventually the drug dealer walked cautiously to the entrance. He eyed the giant knife as Adrian threatened to de-ball the poor asshole and pop him like a bloated frog if he didn't go get some more acid, like, immediately. The drug dealer assured Adrian that he would get some more. Then he hauled ass out of the apartment and wasn't seen again. Until the next morning, when he did actually show up with more acid. By then, however, Adrian had started a nice little 48-hour nap
Did I mention this was the night we went to see The Matrix for the first time? Yeah.
Anyway, what have we learned from all this? Well, I know that I learned a little bit about perspective. No matter how bad you're freaking out, there's always someone who's lost their mind just a little more than you. Second, I'm extremely glad that, just a decade or so after all this happened, Adrian got clean and became a yoga instructor. Third, and possibly unrelated, I learned that pooping yourself is rarely appropriate, but when it is, it's good to know how to do it at will.
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