Shrooms and Vegas Characters: DJ Art Dawg Playa Pun Big Tony Sir Paul Lil Yoshy Dark Adam Belligerent Anthony I glanced at the time glowing on the dash of the caravan known to the locals as the Lexus: 12:30 am it read.
DJ Art Dawg
I glanced at the time glowing on the dash of the caravan known to the locals as the Lexus: 12:30 am it read. I drove the all too familiar streets of my deserted hometown to a friend of whom I have known the majority of my life. A low key free spirited mutha: DJ Art Dawg. I pulled up sandwiched between his apartment and the only thing that was not dead in this town, the local 7-11. As I sat there looking through the most appropriate cds to play on the commencement of the journey we were about to embark on, sir Art entered. Not many words were exchanged as with the best of friends often are not needed. The caravan proceeded to the next stop, the flagrant playa of Fremont: Pun. He hopped in the ride, threw his bag next to the carton of cigarettes, 3/8s of weed and 3/8 of magical mushrooms, and we rode to our final stop before the journey, big Tony’s abode.
The original plan here was to swing by pick up my buddy, and be off to the wonderful playground of lights and cards; however, big Tony had other plans, as he so often does. There sat Big Tony in his plush sofa couch with none other but his partner in crime, Nevil. The table was covered with green lushness, and boys and girls I do not mean broccoli nor do I mean asparagus, it was none other than the killer kali buds. When faced with such a situation with so much freshly picked product, what else are 4 buddies to do when they cross its path but to sit outside and have a fat pre road trip sesh. And so the 4 buddies and Nevil proceeded to burn the greens in the finest swisher sweets those parts had to offer. As the purple haze quickly clouded their minds and their sense of time, these crazy kids found that the desert could wait and that in reality there was no rush to go anywhere. There they had the stickiest of the ickiest, and the fruitiest of the pebbles; however, the creamy milkiness that so necessarily accompanies these pebbles was gone and no where to be seen, there was only his imposter: soy vanilla in its place. The premonition was too evident to be denied; it was time to go, away from the milkless fruity pebbles and onward to achieving the American dream. And so they left.
As the three of the four hurried into the caravan, the one known as big Tony stalled as his hair needed combing and his finger nails needed clipping. Finally at 2 am, an hour and a half after coming to pick up big Tony, did the foursome leave the idle Ghost town of Fremont and begin their epic journey to where so many dead presidents now resided. The drive to find treasure began slowly. Each of the four of the friends was in his own mind-set for the effects of the buds were still taking its toll. As the ride began, two laptops were glowing in the dark car and the four kids began to feel the anticipation of what they had gotten themselves into, a weekend of debauchery into the greatest city known to the states. And so they went, driving on the lonesome roads of the highway 5 south, encountering few others on the road, passing like a ghost in the darkness. Sir Paul handled the reins and controlled the destination of the caravan for the first half of the drive. All was smooth and relatively mundane as they drove, thus properly the blunts were lit up and passed which enhanced Sir Paul’s ability to drive as well as created a livelier ambience within the car. T’was the same sights over and over until they encountered highways 56 and 48. Up to this point, the travelers believed that they were the only ones on the road, but upon entering the new straights it was a cold blooded fact. As they proceeded on these roads, they looked forward and behind themselves to see nothing but the horizon and a seemingly endless road. On both sides of them there was nothing to be seen except for the rows of power lines, seemingly going into the middle of nothingness, and endless cornfields. They drove on these roads for what seemed like days, but in actuality was more like an hour as the caravan reached unprecedented speeds of over 110 mph. They mashed through the hill billy towns of sister love with no remorse and no looking back. Shortly after, big Tony relieved Sir Paul of command and took control of the vehicle. As the change of driver signified a clear point in time to light up a spliff and take a lift, so they did. Time then passed by slower than it had before this point, the only sounds that could be heard were the sweet melodies and raspy voice of Bob Marley and some trippy ass mind fuck music DJ Dawg brought along. The combination of the drugs, and long hours of driving and mellow music put Sir Paul in a sleep like trance, one which was not even broken by the lighting up of another dubbie. Once he awoke, and began to remember where he was, he began to examine his surroundings. A species of some monstrous radiation infested cacti grew in all parts of the desert.
These cacti looked more like trees with needles instead of leaves on their branches, and all the branches were curved at strange angles, maybe acting as a sign of the psycadelic experience which awaited the men.
Then to make matters even stranger, a cylindrical form of milky whiteness was seen on the horizon in the direction they were traveling in. The form looked like a solid building of some sort that was magically hovering there in space. The hazing kids with nothing better to do to occupy their simple minds, began to stare immensely at the figure, finding all sorts of hidden faces and potential uses of the unknown sculpture. As they drove by it, it turned out to be just a cloud of smoke that for whatever reason was not moving at all. It was like the smoke was there embedded in space with no wind to move it just sitting there perfectly still as though it was meant to be seen by them. A cloud of smoke? maybe more signs of what was in store for them. The rest of the trip went by quite eventless and finally after the long journey, they made it to the modern day pyramids. A feeling of relief and joy came across the weary journeyers as they at last reached their destination. The night was long gone and the sun was overhead beating down hard on the sore eyes of everyone. As they pulled into the parking lot of the magnificent hotel they were to stay in: the Sahara, the relief quickly turned to distress. As they approached the front desk of the hotel, a long ass fucking line awaited them. The Gangstas held the spot in line as Sir Paul went to relieve his wiener and choke the chicken(hey it was a long trip). Sir Paul came back in line, and they were all there, all but Art. Art came shortly after with a tall can of the coldest beer guaranteed and some quick cash he made while the other fools waited, haha it was a good start to the weekend. The four knights finally got to the front of the line and tried to check in, but a disgruntled clerk informed them that check in did not indeed begin until 3 pm at the latest, and nothing not even group blow jobs would change his mind. So the men had at most 5 hours to kill and thus they entered in a local Carl’s and ordered some grub ass grub. The contemporary song Im mister lonely played in the restaurant and seemed to follow them everywhere they went, it was the weekend anthem. After the burgers and fries were wolfed down, much time still existed before the scheduled check in, thus the gangsta proceeded to schmob up and down the Vegas strip. Watching the tits lips asses and thighs helped relieve the bumper to bumper traffic that was all too common to the strip. They finally made it back to the hotel about 2 hours later and luckily the rooms were ready. All four of the pimps were by that time as tired as Jeremy after a Smirnoff ice. They somehow made it up to the room with all their shit and crashed out immediately. Sleep quickly took over their exhausted souls and sleep was good. When they awoke, the sun was still out however several hours had passed and the travelers felt good enough to begin experiencing all the sins the city had to offer. They quickly showered and put on their pimp shit and got ready to do what they had all been looking forward to (except for Pun for it would be popping his cherry) and ShrOOooOOommm mannnnnnn. Sir Paul had the brilliant idea of going out somewhere near Lake Mead to experience the full effect of these wonderfully disastrous drugs, although he did not anticipate that when it is dark, you cant see shit. So onward they went towards the lake, stopping to get some Taco Smell and plenty of Gatorade and OJ (but OJ kills you say) for they did not want to dehydrate and shrivel up to never be found again. And so they were ready for the epic moment of the trip to shroom balls and find god or do whatever the hell you do when your shrooming out of your mind. Now they only had to find a key location.
The friends first drove almost to the Hoover Dam then drove around the Lake in search of a nice place in nature where they could observe and appreciate life and earth and all that other stuff. But as they began to drive on yet another deserted highway, the only thing to be seen around them was black, complete fucking pitch darkness. A slight thorn in their shoes. But they were persistent and they were motivated and were not ready to drive an hr out there simply to drive an hr back empty handed, fuck that. So they continued on this path in search with hopeful hearts. The first place they entered was a beach and as they pulled into the parking lot, not only could they not see shit around themselves, but there was a state trooper sitting there right where they pulled up,
almost as if he was waiting for them to tell them to continue their
search, so continue they did. They drove on and on, but it was still
blacker than a nigga’s black ass. Then finally out of the blue they approached lights, lights that marked the spot the spot where they would shroom their fucking minds out. They pulled into a marina of some sort with hella boats and hella cars parked out front. The lights were there so that ships could make it back and not crash into land or all the fucking cars that were there. So without really any other option they decided to sit there in the car and that this was the place to shroom. They all took out their taco Smell, and they proceeded to eat their portions with tacos and Mexican pizzas and good shit. The less experienced warriors took in half an eighth while the knowledgeable sage digested the full eighth. So there they sat, a lil nervous a lil anxious wondering if they were going to flip the fuck out or what to expect or how tight it was going to be and when they were going to kick in. They all tried passing the time in their own ways.
Playa Pun sat quietly eating his tacos, just making himself relax and let it come as it comes. DJ Art began a lil frantic, uppidity a lil unsure whether shrooming out in the darkness was such a good idea after all. Sir Paul sat there eating hella slow and smoking as many stoges as his lungs could hold. The wise warrior however began rolling joints and blunts for the upcoming trip which we would all so badly require, this man was no stranger to the game and knew exactly what to expect. And so the wait began…..
And wait they did sitting there with the soft sounds of Reggae coming out of the speakers. “do you feel anything yet?” “dude I think im starting to feel it” they exclaimed 10 minutes into the trip. Their imaginations and anxieties were getting the best of them. It did indeed feel like waves were coming in and out of the souls in the car awaiting their destiny. It was like wobbah, a slight distortion of sight and sound and feel and then it was gone and like it never came. Then the sage put on the trippy ass shit DJ Art so profoundly brought along on the trip. As the music began to get kinda technoish and upbeat, something about the music got to Art, and he started to space out. hahahaah. As they were all sitting in the car starting to feel the shrooms take effect, Art dawg randomly yells out “I feel like dancing!” and proceeds to step out of the car and doing this weird fucking monkey dance shit. It was like knee up arm up next knee up shit, fucking way not even on the beat or anything, fucking weirdest shit ever, but funny as fuck! The rest of the knights sat there staring in amazement for a second, then began cracking up hard. Laughing their asses off, but Art was in his own state didn’t seem to notice or care for the cackles coming from in the car. After about a minute of this, he got back in the car as tho nothing had happened. This was about the time that all these warriors began to feel the effects of this intense mind fuck drug that they had so craved. “what’s that light” questioned Pun. “It’s a cop. No it’s a lamp post. No it’s a boat. No its not moving what the fuck, that light is starting to trip me out man. Fuck. “ everyone said. As they began to get a lil uneasy about the situation, they quickly lit up a blunt and smoked the mother fucker like it was going out of style. The weed had a perfect balance with the effect the shrooms were making them feel, and had a pleasant way of making peace and harmony with their environment. However by this time they begun to get a little paranoid and realized that they should move the car into a more discrete location. So Sir Paul whipped the reins and move the horses closer to the water, more hidden from view. After they had parked, the light on top of the hill began to move and it became clear that the light was simply a boat coming out of the water, for they were indeed in a marina. The kids proceeded to light up more and more dubbies which only enhanced the feeling they were getting from the drugs. Then people passed outside of the caravan and got into their car of their own, and for whatever reason parked the fucker right in front of theirs, with the headlights shining right in the eyes of the shroomers. An initial wave of panic came across, as the car seemed like he was in that same place for a very long time. The lights looked like eyes coming out of the darkness, for the car itself was hidden from view, only the glowing orbs were visible to the warriors. After a short period of time the car left sight and relief set in. As they sat there smoking weed and smoking cigarettes, staring at the water, they realized what they must then do, they must go to the water. It was necessary and unavoidable and the perfect plan for these hippies
to do. They got out of the car, as each one of them went on their own path of either touching the water, or skipping stones just laughing and having fun, child-like innocent good hearted fun. The pier was their next destination and it was calling them out. As they were half way down the pier they saw an ensemble of people walking towards them coming from the pier to land. Panic set in as they were 100 percent sure that every living creature would be able to tell that they were shrooming their balls off. So they walked then stopped then walked again only causing more and more unnecessary attention to themselves. Big Tony then immediately goes and starts pissing his shit into the murky black waters of the marina, only to be observed by some random passerby as big Tony was exposed to the world. Surprisingly the pier got old really quick and we all wanted to go back to the car, so we did. Then came the scariest part of the entire trip, both trips. As we congregated outside the car to smoke stoges and talk about what we wanted to do, standing their really did feel like we were in someone elses hood. But as we are there a fucking pig rolls up to the marina with his spotlight turned on hella bright searching all around for god know what, what the fuck could he possibly be looking for bitch. Well he goes directly up to the 4 peaceful shroomers shines his light and asserts his authority. This moment was scary as hell. There we are with the car smelling like weed, shrooms and weed in the glove compartment in Nevada where you get caned for talking about weed. We all start to panic and try to devise a plan within the short amount of time we had before the cop would have a chance to approach us and talk to us. Just as we get a plan that we’re ready to execute, the cop flips a bitch and rolls away from us just as if nothing
happened. This event is what sparked Sir Paul into a philosophical
righteous mood for the rest of the night. Began preaching that the cop knew of the drug escapades that were occurring and he was supporting our cause. They all waited for a lil bit to make sure the cop had really left and was not going to turn around or
anything then they all got in the car to chill. After waiting for a
period of time, they decided that the marina was no longer a friendly place to stay and that an immediate leave was in due order. The drive back was one of hope and a sense of great things to come. The conversation was deep at times, silly at others, that of what to expect with 4 minds in another dimension looking upon their 3 dimensional lives. Hopes of a college type party in the hotel room arose, talk of 15.5 gallons of beer better known as the holy keg. However like Vegas itself it was false hope. As they left the isolated spots of the marina and the lake and began to find themselves in civilization again, they found a straight long road that went on for days. Then out of nowhere they conquered a small hill in the road and on the top to their amazement was a sea of golden lights, the flat area of the kingdom of gold was densely filled with lights that seemed to never end. They looked left and right intense light filling their pupils. As they continued over the bend in the road, more and more golden light filled their eyes. It was a beautiful sight, breathtaking even for the moment. This marked the return to civilization and tables.
Shortly after, they finally arrived back from the lake to their now even more majestic hotel. This is when the trip got a little crazy. DJ Art had been holding his blatter for days, for he did not want to expose himself to the world as big Tony had no shame in doing. Thus as soon as the car stopped he jumped out and made a run for the hotel room. The other 3 shroomed out soldiers were too preoccupied with the way their brains were killing brain cells to take notice of the absence. Sooner or later they finally decided to make it back to the hotel room since they had indeed come back to the hotel. On the journey to the room, they made a wrong turn, instead of going right to the hotel doors into their place of residence, they made a left turn and ended up in the front of the hotel. Here they fascinated themselves with a large dome that marked the entrance of the hotel with flashing lights and tripped out designs within. Here the 3 day trippers looked up for what seemed like hours trying to take in the whole scene the beauty and essence of it all. Then Sir Paul got a call, it was none other but DJ Art, tripping balls alone in the hotel room. He was in the bathroom alone, everything about the room was starting to freak him out. The water in the toilet bowl was not making him happy for whatever reason, started hearing voices and noises, basically the silence was making his imagination run wild to the worst and darkest places it could go. This call reminded the trippers that their destination was indeed the room and not the beautiful dome on in front of the hotel. This marked their return to the room where Art was relieved to see people again. At this point the crew from LA arrived and joined with the Fremont Gs. This was possibly the most unfortunate thing that could have happened at the time. The foursome had this brilliant kind of group energy almost as though they were all part of it, each one of them made it up. Like puzzle pieces coming together forming a picture. When the LA crew showed up, they were just not on the same level as the original gangstas. And as anyone who has done magical mushrooms before can tell you, when you are on that level the presence of non boomers is something that is not desirable. With the new presence, each of the baby boomers kind of went into their own separate world. Art dawg became hectic as fuck, standing, then sitting then looking out the window, just scattered all over the place. He had an epiphany “shrooms really bring out everyones personality” true dat. Big Tony was sitting on the bed patiently waiting very tranquil like, peaceful. Sir Paul was lying on the bed too many thoughts running through his head all at once, unable to really cope all he could do was lie their and wait for the shrooms to do their worst to him. Playa Pun left the room, out gambling or hunting, he is a man of action. Finally after a big gap in time, they found themselves downstairs in the casino standing in a circle, looking truly noobish as they watched a game of blackjack unfold. They timidly approached the table and asked tons of questions to the old washed up dealer. When they had enough information they finally sat down and played some cards. It was clear to everyone however that this group was underage and underexperienced and did not really know what was going on. Due to these mannerisms the dealer asked to see identification from all of them. Ironically the oldest looking one of them big Tony (looked like he was at least 30, old enough to be a dad) was the one that had to leave the table for he did not have proper or fake identification. So woefully he left.
At the table Sir Paul and Playa Pun played. Paul played a single hand all night and kept the coronas on the constant as he tried to get himself out of the funk he was in. Playa Pun being the mack he is, played two hands and started the night off with a double down on 15 with dealer showing face. Flip… 6, 21. Fucking right A. It was the start to a good night. Turned out to be the only night that Sir Paul made any kind of money. Every hand was a battle that Pun and Paul defeated time and time again. The shrooms had empowered them to the secrets of gambling and they used it to their advantage. Hours went by, dealers changed, beers were replaced, and money was made. It was the best of times vegas could offer. Very late or early I should say, Paul made his way back to the room and found Adam (part of the LA crew) lying there in complete darkness shrooming his mind off. He was going through distressful times and desperately needed companionship at the time. Lil yashy entered soon thereafter and began jamming on the guitar, a blunt was definitely in order and a blunt is what happened. This was the hypnotic medicine that was required to put Sir Paul’s mind at ease and let his soul get a wink of sleep. Half a blunt later, the knight found himself in dreams. The morning came quickly and the four survivors of the powerful trip found themselves alive and breathing, to their relief. However soon they would find the day after an intense emotional and spiritual experience was where they wanted to be. All four of them were drained considerably as they made their way to brunch, got some good food, lots of shrimp that tasted a lil weird. After breakfast they roamed the city through the mono rail that took them down the strip and enabled them to walk around and see the different cities that existed in each hotel. It was very laid back did not require thought which was perfect for the way they all felt. They saw the places they wanted to see, then with the false info from lil Yoshy, they believed it was day lights saving already and the playa and the knight hurried back to their palace for the poker tournament that was about to start. Turned out that all the rushing was for nothing and they got there almost an hr before the start time. The tourney provided to be fun, both of the Gs rolled up wearing their shades protecting their eyes from the more experienced knowing stares. Pun must have still been feeling the effects from the shrooms, because 3 times during the tourney he bet out of turn and the dealer kept making a big deal out of it, even calling over another dealer telling him to look out for this guy. haha silly pun. Sir Paul ended up not getting cards all fucking night, the only two big hands he had were the hands that took out the playa, twice that is. It was an unfortunate turn of events but this was what destiny had in mind. After Pun left, Paul was out shortly after, and proceeded back to the room to rest his frantic mind. There he met up with the rest of the gang, and they sat around thinking about what to do for the night. The idea of a club came up the idea of getting hookers was prevalent as there was porn scattered all over the room. Weed was definitely smoked, and Art finally built up the courage to call one of the sluts, in this cute innocent 7th grade voice asking for sex. haha. Unwillingly he gave her the room number and name of the account, but did not expect her actually to come. Within 30 min knock on the door looking for dick. We passed her down, as the salesman outside tried to work out a deal although he came up unsuccessful, although this was a decision he would grow to regret. They all lounged around the room for a while, trying to muster up enough energy to make it out for another night of partying and getting shitty. Finally they did and went out to lose a lot of money quickly. At least the drinks were free and at least we were not Anthony, lost a G for the 2nd time that month. So we got back in the room not too long after and proceeded to chill out.
It was now late and Art and Paul were trying to crash, although Tony had other plans. He called up a hooker in the middle of the night, Paul not wanting to move his bones, objected to the request to get the fuck out for a hour. So Tony compromised by getting up and running with the mattress into the next room where Paul crashed out hard and fast. Art roamed the casino getting drinks, and peeping out the girl Tony was about to bang. Should have kept the other girl and the 300 bucks, that’s all there is to say about that. Morning came for all of them, they went to the bellagio to get a wonderful fucking buffet, much better than the Sahara’s and immediately proceeded to go. A quick stop at the Excalibur was in order for the Sir still had 50 bucks to cash out. On the way to cash out the knight was blinded by the blackjack tables and inexplicably drawn to it. He sat down for a minute, and lost 6 straight hands and thus the 50 bucks, bad end to a great trip. He hurried outside and joined the convoy of the original 4 Gs and the addition of dark Adam. The ride home was filled with smoke, both weed and stoges as the crazy fiends had gone through 14 packs of cigarettes when all was said and done, and now smoking was a natural thing to do in ones time. There really was nothing to be said on the ride back, they were all tired as hell, drained from the shrooms, and disgruntled from the lack of sleep and the money lost. It was an exhausting trip to vegas and a long drive back that somehow went by quickly as they were all ready to get home and sleep in their own beds. The first stop on the way back was in the boon dogs where the wind was blowing hard, as these kids tried to piss on anything other than themselves. Tony sat in the car patiently. As everyone else returned, Tony stepped outside facing traffic started draining his shit as 3 cars rolled by. haha. awesome. The rest of the trip was spent reminiscing on the good and crazy times they had while they were shrooming and just fucking around in Vegas. Art’s dance, the sea of lights, the fucking righteous pig that was all about shrooms, and most importantly just being in good company. The ride was spent in contemplation and was peaceful.
Finally back in the home town, all of them were dropped off at their appropriate abodes one by one they exchanged their farewells, and it was sensed by all that they had all become closer than they had when they began the trip to the forbidden city of sin. It was a trip that none of them will ever forget a trip for the ages.