“Wake the Fuck up and drink mutherfucker” over and over, is all I can remember being wakened from a deep sleep. “Get up and Drink”, slam, landing on my chest barely half awake was a case of bottled beer, A half gallon of Wild Turkey and a half gallon of cheap butterscotch schnaps. It hit so hard knocking the wind out of me, sailing through the air from several feet away. I’m surprised none of it broke, but the Schnaps was of a cheap variety and thus was in a plastic bottle. As I began to shake the cobwebs off, I looked at the clock and it was a little after Nine in the morning. I was getting used to this ritual from my roommate who was a more than a dozen years older then me…I believe that I was seventeen.
At this point in my life I had moved from my parents home because they could be understandably hard on me over drinking and drugs. Somehow I preferred this life over their persistence in trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. I had graduated from high school early because they just wanted me out of the High School. Really the story is much more complex than that however it would take a full page to explain it all. At the time my High School just wanted me gone. They let me graduate on the condition that I was off school grounds by noon every day. I just had to finish my requirements, to make a long story short.
So as I got up, I immediately began to feel the rush of exhilaration of knowing what was to come. I cracked open a bottle of Michelob, it was hair of the dog time. Soon there would be shots, and by noon I was completely hammered. Raising the stakes was always next and my roommate was always on point, time to get the first eight ball of coke. You know that was always a couple hours of going from house to house until we could score the best coke around. We had a pretty good source but it always still felt so shady, again all worth it at the time. Snort it no way, never. We would always cook it with ammonia and freebase it all. We knew we had a good source because the yield was always high. Purity is essential to this because if the coke was heavily “stepped on” their would be nothing to smoke.
Then the Second eight ball would be needed, already having smoked two packs of cigarettes before late afternoon, so we could use the ashes as a bed in the pipe bowl for the rocks we made. This went on every day for a long time, my roommate would give me his wallet after the second eight ball and tell me to hide it on him, and no matter what not to give it back. Soon, a few hours later, he would be trying to fight me to get back his wallet and after a wrestling match with my psycho but strong roommate, he would get his wallet back and say, “Wait here I’m going to get some more”. This was in the days before crack hit it big. Sometimes we would hang out with our dealer and pass the pipe around for three days straight before kibbying home hoping to not have a seizure. Pills, alcohol, and marijuana would help us come down…only to fall asleep and crash for two days or more.
So this was how I would begin my days and their was nothing glamorous about it however good it felt at the time. We were fired up and raging, “Living on the edge”, we would say. It was in the days before I would get real hangovers. It was not uncommon though to go through alcohol poisoning on my own, vomiting and ill from cheap liquor but no withdrawals or addiction. A few days off here and there from this madness felt like a months vacation in the sun. At the time we were also dropping blotter acid and purple mescaline like candy, to the point where we would dose and would not get off due to tolerance. So a few would have to do the job…sometimes it was just right and others it was way too much. The walls would be sweating and breathing like a panting dog…over and over for hours. Kaleidoscopes….What fun, yeah OK!
Because we were in the city a few towns away from home, sometimes my roommate would disappear on a cocaine bender and I would take off with friends for adventures that were always a gas. We had one friend that we would hang out in his basement that was finished off like an apartment, and his parents just turned a blind eye to whatever we were doing down there. Fully grown pot plants on fire filling the whole house with smoke while his parents were home, hordes of friends all drunk on cough syrup and pills, feats of strength being tested to the limit of destruction of property, we had it all and it went on like that, it seems forever. Pink Floyd, Zeppelin, Beatles, Iron Maiden always blaring from the stereo, and all the windows in the basement where blacked out. Clocks were not allowed as a rule, so we would not be able to keep track of time or know whether it was day or night. There were times we would not leave the basement for two weeks at a time in the summer. People would show up and leave all day long, and we would smoke and get stoned on numerous chemicals. Others would bring and share their goods with us as it was a safe place out of sight.
At some point we found ourselves in town to stock up on boxes of food, to get us through our benders. One day when we left the store my friends and I realized that I was the one person the least wasted. I was not drunk or on acid that day for some reason so I was voted to drive the car back to the compound, and I did not have my driving license yet. So we left to head for our shelter and found ourselves uncharacteristically backed up in traffic. I pulled over with the realization that friends of ours had gotten into a bad car accident clipping a telephone pole. The police were already there, as ambulances were taking each person to the hospital. One friend that was not severely injured came over to us and he explained what happened. They were speeding and missed the curve in the road and slammed into the telephone pole. They were very lucky as no one was critically injured…it was a bizarre scene all of us wasteoids standing on the side of the road, like a random gathering of the tribe.
I do remember taking note that the police were watching us, but none of us were carrying so we did not care. I did find it strange that the cops did not ask us to move on, they seemed to act like they did not care either. Little did we know that this was the beginning of the end for most of us, and all of this scene was a wild coincidence in the cops bigger plans.
So we left the scene and we were all generously relieved to get out of there. I remember the car ride was strange, because again everyone was completely off their tits on acid, laughing and rolling around in the back seat and boot…we thought we were smooth sailing. My friends car had a powerful engine and I was taking full advantage of it, feeling the rush as we dropped over certain hills where our hearts would float into our necks. Not smart, I usually was super careful in times of taking things to the edge. So as we are coming around the bend way to fast into my friends neighborhood, I hit a patch of sand and the car slid off the road we sailed right over my friends neighbors front yard, hitting trees and signs. All of the grass in the front yard was all torn up good and next thing we know boom, we were launched into the air and landed on top of a large steel junction box for the whole neighborhood and came to a complete stop. All four tires were off the ground and we were square on top of the junction box about five feet off the ground. We all looked at each other with hallucinated faces and the electricity began to go out house by house down the length of the long road. I was scared shitless…everyone else broke out into unadulterated laughter. We were screwed.
We all exited the car, jumping down to the ground, we were only two houses away from the compound. All the families in the neighborhood came out on their doorsteps to see what all the chaos was about. My friends were rolling around on the grass laughing and I was scared stiff, all I could think was that we were going to pay dearly for this. My friend whose house the compound was in, his parents came out on their front steps with the look of absolute horror in their eyes. I could hear his little sister yell to his parents outside (I’ll never forget this as long as I live), she screamed “Mom, Dad…how come the cable is out.” I could have shit myself. Now it’s funny to reminisce but at the time, not so much.
So the police came and interviewed everyone and they gave my friend a ticket as they did not know I was driving and they did not ask. My friend who owned the car took the blame, they just figured he was driving and though he was wasted, he pulled it together once the police arrived. A tow truck came and it took them an hour to get the car down. As they were pulling it off the junction box the bottom of the car was squealing in pain. We just all stood there plussed. The fire department came as did the electric company, and they fixed the electric quite fast. I could not believe they let us leave to go inside and continue the madness. I guess this called for a real party…the running joke was people asking me over and over “Hey man can we do that again, that was fun!”, to the roar of laughter.
Anyway we had purchased a book of acid…yes 1000 doses of blotter/ ten sheets of one hundred, for a couple hundred dollars (This happened often and we would split it). We would have the whole town blasted for a week for free just for fun. Everyone in school was dosing an hour before dismissal and by the time everyone walked out the front door everyone was toast. It was absolute mayhem, but there always came the time for running out. I was all out of my share, but my good friend had ten hits left, and as luck would have it he said on a whim, “let’s split the last 10 hits, five each”. I was all game, so we dosed and smoked some dope to some good music and friends. Our day, unbeknownst to us was just beginning after all we had already been through.
So as I was just starting to get off…loud bangs started to go off everywhere. Cops ripped open the cellar door and came from every direction. We could hear the helicopters flying over the house, and looking out through the destroyed door we could see cops frisking friends, dogs, spotlights everywhere. We were in the middle of an all out drug bust but it was local police…seems like the whole force, not the D*E*A. So they sat us all down in a line and asked us where the LSD was, and we said truthfully we did not have any. We had just finished it all, or so we thought, we did not say that but we had nothing. So they began to strip search us all, taking us one by one into a side room. Yup like you see on TV. The girls with us were balling because they were not involved, and they brought in a female officer to strip search them. After an hour or two of all this chaos…my friends parents were standing there watching all of this, the police mentioned they searched everywhere and they seemed to be giving up. I thought wow were we lucky…damn!
For some reason they wanted to search my friend that lived at the house for a second time…I remember them telling him to take his socks off and as he did this a small glass vial with two hits of acid in it clinked onto the floor and all of our jaws just dropped. We were fucked now! The police threw him to the ground and held up the vial and said, “Now that we have found this we have the right to tear this house apart…the ceilings, the electronics, the furniture, everything.” The cops told my friend “If you want to end this now, give us the rest and we can end all this.” His parents pleaded with him and he realized the jig was up so he walked over to the refrigerator, opened it and pulled off the locked ice box cover, slid his hand down the back and took out a tape case with thirty or so hits. They cuffed him and sat him down. Soon after, they started to let people leave one by one. My friend and I who were just starting to peak, we were chatting and the cops overheard something we said and they said to me what’s you’re name and I told them. They said ohhhh…we’ve been looking to talk to you. Oh shit here we go.
They said they wanted us to come to the police station…yes that’s right drive ourselves to the police station so they could talk to us. When we got in the car, we said just be cool and if they try to play us against each other, know that they were lying. So we got to the station and immediately they split us up and brought us into two different rooms. We were not scared because we did not have any drugs, but we were still high on five each. They did exactly as we talked about…they let us sit in the interview rooms for a half hour and I kept telling myself just be cool and honest. We were innocent in a gray area kind of way. When they came in they said to me, “you’re friend gave you up, we know you’re involved…tell us if you want us to help you out.” They had not read me my rights so that was a giveaway, and I told them he did not give me up…that’s a lie because we’ve done nothing. There is nothing to give up. So they tried to rattle me for about a half hour. Then they left and let us sit another half hour…I did not know what was going to happen. There was a clock on the wall and it was just about four in the morning at this time. Then all of a sudden they came in and said I could go, and to “stay out of trouble”.
That’s right, they let us leave and drive back to the city, to the safety of home. No…it still was not over, when we got to the city about ten minutes from the house…whew…whew the sound of police sirens behind us pulling us over. OMG fuuuuuck, we thought what now. The officer came to the window and said license and registration. My friend realized he did not have his ID, they had taken it at the police station and he forgot to get it back. So we proceeded to explain to him that we were just part of a house raid and drug bust, and the police at so and so station had his license. The cop could not believe his ears, and neither could we. ***FACEPALM*** He said he would be right back, that he was going to contact them to confirm. The officer came back to the window five or so minutes later and said it all checked out and that we could go. I think we drove twenty miles per hour the rest of the way home. When we walked in the door my roommate screamed at the top of his lungs at five in the morning. “Drink you mutherfuckers…it’s time to drink”, as he hurled unopened bottles of beer at us far across the room. All we could do was look at each other and laugh. Nine lives…one for the ages and I was not even eighteen years of age yet.
Cheers and Bless Bless!
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