Although I wasn't looking for trouble the night this trip took place, in retrospect I suppose that I was really, really asking for it-- maybe even begging for it. You see, instead of doing my usual thing-- that is, staying indoors where I could enjoy the silly-putty panorama produced by my psilocybian allies in the safety of my very own hovel, I decided instead that it might be a fun thing to gobble down a heavy dose of cubensis while in attendance at a very large biker party.
The soiree in question is an annual gathering that takes place every Memorial Day in Mississippi; approximately fifteen thousand souls may be counted upon to attend the gathering, and far from being some sort of tame, yuppie-infested meeting of sensible minds, this event is notorious for the incredibly wanton, nearly berserk sort of behavior that only the most hard-core of bikers could possibly display, let alone enjoy...
As if the venue wasn't bad enough, I had brought along a couple of companions who were decidedly NOT going to be in a position to assist me should my trip turn out to be a bummer. These were two fellows who had, unbeknownst to me, brought along a large amount of heroin to snort. And as it happened, I did wind up going pretty much out of control while my two clownish compadres went into what was more or less a drug-induced coma.
I had been enjoying myself all afternoon. The party was unusually raunchy that year, and there were scores of topless women wandering about, posing lewdly for the ever-hungry lenses of the depraved cameramen that proliferate at such gatherings. Being one of these perverted snap-shotters myself, I had been having one hell of a good time, and had already shot seven rolls of twenty four exposures by the time the sun went down. Knowing that the party generally got even crazier once night time came, I ate about five grams of dried shrooms and then set about to shoot even more sleazy photographs.
The shrooms came on as they usually do, rolling in and out like some sort of psychedelic wave, causing me to feel "normal" at one moment and pretty freaked the next. Then, per usual, I finally lapsed into a fully altered state of consciousness.
One of the things that I love/hate about mushrooms is that I always seem to acquire a rather penetrating insight into things while under their influence, and this night was no exception. Per usual, I was able to read body language and pick up on the subliminal cues that people unwittingly provide one another with, with an acuity that is often somewhat annoying. In this case, I was able to perceive the underlying motivation of the women who engaged themselves in a display of heavy-duty public exhibitionism, and could see that some of them were aggressively predisposed and enjoying a moment of power over the assembled males-- while yet others were passively hoping for a bit of verifiable attention, of a type that they might not ordinarily receive while their breasts were covered. I watched knowingly as some of the males puffed their chests out while their consorts did their titty-show thing, and laughed to think that these men felt as if they had somehow garnered the respect of others who were not accompanied by such wanton women. It's a biker thing, I guess.
After a while, I started to think that I was really a rather boorish soul for bothering to run around with a camera, merely to take pictures of the mammary glands of strange women and I resolved to rid myself of the camera, which was quickly becoming a nuisance. As usual, the damned shrooms had transported me to a realm that was distinctly above that of the ordinary concerns of greedy human flesh and so I headed back to my camp. I was gonna chuck that damned camera, no matter what.
As I headed back to my tent, I noticed that there were little red and green lights on the ground, little spots of illumination that looked more or less like L.E.D.'s; somehow or another, I figured out that the red ones were my enemies while the green ones were friendly. I was astounded to see that the red lights would actually come towards me in a line, but would be cut off by an intercepting line of green ones that kept the red ones from reaching the spot on the ground that I occupied.
The sky was aswirl with purple light and blue clouds, and the stars were pinpoints of bright yellow and white. But, after a while I was having a rather hard time seeing anything other than the little lights on the ground with anything resembling clarity. People were speaking to me, but I couldn't quite understand what they were saying. Everything sounded like gibberish to me!
I knew I must be peaking, because I could no longer tell what the hell people were thinking merely by observing the various physical cues or analyzing the connotations of the words they chose to use as they spoke. I got to where I didn't want to look at any of them, because they all seemed to be somehow demoniac, and I began to laugh, thinking that I must have died and gone to hell. I wanted to get rid of the camera even more than ever now, because it felt as if the damned thing was sending roots into my hand and would wind up permanently attached to me if I didn't put it away.
I finally made it back to my encampment, and was horrified by the sight of one of my two partners lying on the ground, with his hands folded across his chest the way they used to pose dead people in their coffins. He was sort of glowing, that is, a very pale, sickly-white light seemed to be eminating from his body. I thought for sure that he was dead.
I drew close to him, and nudged him with a toe. He didn't respond, and I was sure that he had died. And now I knew I had a real predicament on my hands.
I couldn't figure out what to do with the corpse of my newly-dead friend! I understood that it was out of the question for me to call the police or any other official, for I knew that all sorts of questions would follow-- questions that I knew I probably couldn't answer coherently, or to their satisfaction. I could envision myself being taken away to jail and being somehow charged with his death and I had no intention of spending the rest of my life in some dreary prison in Mississippi, shoveling asphalt on the side of the road as a chain-gang prisoner-slave of an evil and corrupt state.
I knew I couldn't just leave him there either; not only would this be in very bad taste, but also I was sure that the authorities would somehow connect him to me and again, it would be off to the hoosegow with me. I briefly considered burying him, but couldn't figure out how to accomplish this without everyone noticing. Then I got to thinking that I could just stuff him into the trunk of his car and figure out what to do with him later. That got me to laughing hysterically, because I realized how cruddy a guy I was for thinking of just putting him away until later, so that the party wouldn't be spoiled for me.
I thought about how our employer-in-common would react when they learned that he had died: they had warned him not to party with me, and they would blame ME for his death even though I have never had anything to do with heroin and never wanted anything to do with heroin! But, because he has short hair and mine is long-- and because I ride a Harley and have tattoos-- I am thought of as the bad guy by these employers of ours. They're fools!
I was still pondering all of this when suddenly he sat up and began puking on the ground! Because I had been sure that he was dead, his sudden reanimation caught me off guard, to say the very least. I practically jumped out of my skin, that is, I felt as if my soul almost seperated from my physical body. After that, I realized that somebody must have come along and seen him passed out like that, and positioned his hands so as to make him look like a corpse.
Indcidentally, while all of this was going on, the red L.E.D.'s were still trying to attack me and I had been keeping an eye on them so as to avoid their assault. The green ones were still there, still protecting me, but I wasn't sure if they were infailable. The whole situation was rather difficult to endure.
I was angry with my friend and told him so. Then I more or less dragged him into my tent. I suppose I thought he'd be better off inside a shelter of some sort, although as I write this I can't seem to imagine what difference it might have made. Maybe I was trying to keep him from being attacked by the red L.E.D.'s?
My other friend was already in there, likewise passed out from snorting too much heroin, but I had already had enough of these semi-dead friends. I resolved to ignore them and left both of them in the tent. Out of sight, out of mind, and if they died I didn't want a thing to do with it. I asked the one who was already in the tent if they were in danger of dying, though. If they were, I would at least dump them off at the local emergency room, if I could find it...
Meanwhile, the sky was still doing it's kaleidoscopic thing, and now the trees on the horizon looked a lot like gigantic bikers partying. I was having a hard time differentiating them from the actual bikers who were still all around me.
I looked across the roadway of the campground and noticed that a biker who looked a lot like Uncle Fester from the teevee show "The Addams Family" was laughing at me. He had apparently been watching me as I dealt with my dead friends, and I was annoyed by his insouciance. I began to curse at him, basically telling him that he was an asshole for not helping me out. And then, even as I gaped at the sight of it, the biker morphed into a Harley-Davidson FLT. The black leather jacket he had been wearing was now a fiberglass fairing, and I shook my head, trying to resolve the sudden conflict that this transformation had created in my confused mind. Even as I tried to sort this out, the red L.E.D.'s intensified their attempt to attack me, and I shouted at them, trying to scare them off. It worked, too.
I looked back at the motorcycle, and saw that it had turned back into Uncle Fester, a thing which annoyed me to no end. Still unable to figure out what was going on, I walked across the gravel roadway to get a closer look. I was cursing a blue streak as I approached the motorcycle, and a demoniac-looking individual appeared from somewhere, asking me if I was mad at his motorcycle.
I told the demon that I was annoyed by the confusion that the back and forth transformation was causing me, and begged the demon to clarify whether the motorcycle was a motorcycle, or whether it was another biker. The demon told me that what I was looking at was, in fact, his motorcycle and then asked me what sort of drug I was doing. I told him I had eaten a bunch of shrooms, and he shouted, "Wow! Have you got any more?" And so I gave the demon about a quarter ounce or so of them from the stash I was carrying around with me.
As I already mentioned, there were gigantic bikers on the horizon and it wasn't until later, when I was coming down, that I realized that they were just trees and shadows. However, while peaking on those cubies, I was still under the impression that there were giants about and I was pretty concerned that they might notice me and perhaps try to squash me underfoot. I was racking my brains, trying to think of how to fight them off if such a thing happened, and became very depressed at the thought that I would die such an ignominious death. As it was, all I had for weapons were the tools stashed in my motorcycle's tool bag and I didn't expect them to be powerful enough to take out giants. I started to feel depressed.
At that point, I saw a woman approaching me. She was walking along the roadway, but I could tell she was looking at me and would probably speak to me. And she did, she did.
She walked up to me and asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was keeping an eye on the giants, and that I was also still watching out for red L.E.D.'s that might try to attack me. I asked her if she knew what would happen if one of the little red lights actually touched a person and she morphed into a demon and said, "Holy shit! Are you tripping?" I replied in the affirmative, and just as the male demon had requested, she wanted some shrooms. Once again, I dug out several grams and handed them over.
After that, the appearance of this girl changed and she looked like a human being again. She was pretty drunk, I think, because she started telling me that she was a slut and a blowjob and that she would fuck or suck for dope. I didn't want any part of this because I was still busily trying to keep from being killed by the stuff that was all around me. The girl insisted that she should suck my dick, and I told her that I was tripping too hard for a blow job, and that with my luck somebody would die as a result of me getting a blowjob anyway. She laughed and continued to try and get me to let her suck me, and I found myself in the unlikely position of having to beg a woman not to blow me, reminding her that I had already handed over the dope so her offer was unnecessary anyway. She sort of pouted after that, and told me that I was really missing out on a good blow job.
I didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I told her that I had lots of beer in my cooler, maybe she'd like to suck a beer bottle instead? The girl really laughed at that and accepted my offer. So I looked around, but couldn't find the cooler. I went into the tent where my two heroin-addled friends were, sniffing carefully to try and determine if they had died or not.
The girl followed me into the tent, removing her shirt as she did so, and she started pestering me about sex once again. I told her that if either one of my friends was still alive, that she could suck one of them, and again she laughed. I kept waiting for her to look like a demon again, but she stayed in humaniform... thankfully.
She pulled out a joint of pot and asked me if I wanted to mellow out, and of course I did. So we were smoking a joint when one of my two friends more or less came to and sat up. The topless girl asked him if he wanted to watch her suck my cock, but he just laid back down and apparently passed out again.
After we had smoked the joint, the girl asked me if I wanted to take a walk with her. I peered out of the tent, and seeing no enemy L.E.D.'s, decided that this might be a good thing to do. So off we went.
The girl was super-weird. She had this leather pouch hanging from her belt, and she took a casino chip out of it, telling me that it was her lucky chip. She said that she wanted to give it to me, and if I didn't accept it that would make us enemies. So I accepted the chip.
As we walked along, guys with cameras kept shooting pictures of her. She was still topless, and she asked me if I thought she was a slut. I told her that I thought she was a beautiful girl, and she seemed happy about that. She told me that she only went topless to give guys pictures to jack off to, but that she still wanted to blow me. I again declined her offer, but told her how much I appreciated it.
After that, she took a small pebble out of her pouch and told me it was a magic rock. She said that the pebble had called to her earlier in the evening, and so she picked it up knowing that she would later give it to somebody. She said that the moment she saw me she knew that it was I to whom the rock should be given. I accepted the rock gratefully, because she said that it would ward off evil-- and I could still feel evil all around me.
Meanwhile, different people kept coming up to her to shoot pictures. All those flashes were blinding me!
The girl told me that I was a very sweet person, but I was still paranoid as hell about the giants, the L.E.D.'s, the demons and so forth. But I must have been coming down, because I didn't see much of that stuff any more, just lots of flashes from the cameras of men who seemed amazed by the fact that this girl had no shirt on. I was surprised at their attitude: hell, there were topless women all over the place!
The girl asked me one more time if I would accept a blow job, and again I declined. Then she told me that she would be angry if I didn't fuck her. I told her that I probably couldn't fuck her even if I tried, that it had been a long night and besides, we were friends now and so I couldn't fuck her. She found that to be very funny, and I realized that she was tripping-- and that I was finally coming down.
I entered into the post-peak period of deep insight and I told the girl that she didn't have to be so aggressive with me, and that I understood that her sex was her main power on this earth. At this, the girl opened up and in a torrent of words began to tell me that she had always been abused, starting with her step-father and continuing after that with virtually every man who got a shot at her. She told me that I was Jesus Christ and that she was Mary Magdalene, and that our relationship was holy. She also told me that she hated every man on earth except for me, and that she wanted to go down on me more than ever now, just to make me happy. I was so in tune with her thoughts by this point that I understood that the best thing I could do was love her without qualification, but not take advantage of her sexually. I knew that I couldn't bullshit her, either, as she was tripping, and so I told her precisely what my thoughts were. She then repeated that she thought I was a holy person, if not Jesus.
For the record: I denied being holy.
And meanwhile, horny men were still shooting her picture as we wandered about.
Somehow or another, we finally returned to my encampment and I gave the girl a shirt from Daytona Bike Week to wear. I told her that she should put her tits away for the time being, and that there would be plenty of fun for her to have the next day... she complied, but told me that she wanted to stay with me until the sun came up. By this time, I was pretty much down from my trip and really wanted to go to sleep.
So we sat together on a folding lawn chair, and she kept telling me that she loved me and that she would never forget what a gentleman I was. I have no idea what time it was, but I could see that the sky was getting lighter and that soon the sun would come up. She seemed like she had peaked, and that she was now in the clear insight phase of her trip, and she told me that she truly loved me.
We talked for quite a while, but finally I fell asleep with her on my lap. It was fully daylight when I heard a basso profundo voice shouting, "Hey Mary! I been lookin' for you all night!"
I opened my eyes to see a VERY large man, standing on the roadway adjacent to my camp, looking rather perturbed. I just KNEW that this guy was mad as hell at the girl-- who was snoozing, still on my lap-- and I stood up, allowing her to slide off my lap. I turned at the waist, allowing her to plop into the lawn chair and got ready to fight, although I remember realizing that I was at a clear disadvantage because he was so much bigger, and because I was so wasted from the night before. Still, I was game, because LIFE IS and whatever cards a man is dealt, he must play them-- even if he doesn't understand what the hell the game is.
The guy saw that I was ready to go and he avoided looking directly into my eyes. I was feeling around to see if I was carrying a knife (I wasn't) and so it was gonna be duke city. I eyed him, looking for weapons or obvious weak spots, and didn't find any of either. I figured that I was dead meat.
Meanwhile, the girl had awakened and she said lazily, "Aw, hey Burr... this is my friend, Jesus Christ. Jesus, meet Burrhead. He's my husband."
I said, "Hiya Burrhead." I was still ready to rip into him if need be, but he ignored me completely and said to Mary, "Are you gonna stay here or come back to the trailer?"
Mary stated that she would stay with me, and to my surprise, Burr said meekly, "Okay honey. You come on back when you want to." Then the Neanderthal wannabee shambled off.
I said to Mary, "Is that really your husband?" After being introduced as Jesus, I wasn't sure who or what he might really have been.
She smiled at me and said, "Yup, that's my husband all right. Isn't he an asshole? He spent all night fucking my sister, and then he wonders where I was while he was gettin' after it! Isn't that just like a man?"
I didn't know what to say.
Mary saw that I was apparently shocked and she laughed. She said, "Listen, Jesus: you ain't no ordinary man, and so I guess you don't understand, but the deal is this: we're true to each other all year long but at this party anything goes. He gets what he wants, and usually, so do I."
She gazed into my eyes as I blinked in confusion, which caused her to laugh merrily-- a tinkling, girly laugh. I really liked her laugh. The she said, "You know something? I never thought that there was such a thing as a good man until I met you."
I told her, "Look, if I had been drunk last night, I probably would have jumped at any offer you made me. You just caught me while I was really tripping hard and couldn't do anything but try and hang onto my brain before it came out my ears and ran off down the road."
She studied my face for a moment and then said, "No, you're a good man. You could have gotten whatever you wanted-- and you still can, if you want-- but I know that in your heart you're not the type of person to do bad things to other people. Also: I see that you won't do me because you know I am married. You're Jesus and I love you."
I sort of laughed and said, "Well, just a second or two ago I was getting ready to bust your old man in the nose! How good does that make me?"
And she said, "You're a good man, Jesus. Don't kid yourself. If you weren't, Burr would have come at ya."
So I said to her, "Dammit! I'm not Jesus!"
Her demure reply was: "Don't be so damned sure."
And so began a friendship that endured until Mary died last year, and left this sad, sad world.
And if you think I'm not crying right now, then you'd better think again.