1996: This was the start of the drug dealing. We pawned my bass and acoustic guitar for $110 and headed back to OB to buy a sheet of acid. Within an hour we had the acid, with five hits apiece of our tongues already. We traded some for a quarter ounce of bammer weed and soon had a bunch of new friends to trip with. Jim was living with a hippie street clown in a small apartment on Brighton not far from the beach and we all headed there to get stoned and start our trip.
Tensions were high between Jim and the clown. We knew he would be home soon so we saved some weed to smoke with him in the hopes that he wouldn’t be too upset to find a bunch of tripping kids in his living room after coming home from a long day of being a clown for money in the park. He was frowning as he came in the door but was very compassionate to our situation of just starting to trip. He was with his clown girlfriend and they started making tripped out balloon animals and flowers that would change into twisted versions of themselves with a flick of his wrist.
1996: My uncle had some crazy acid he had been playing up and I was trying to get him to give me some. He took it out just to show me but who cares what acid looks like so I assumed I was supposed to eat all five hits and did so. His jaw dropped open, first in shock that I had just eaten all that acid, then in anger that I had just eaten all of HIS acid. He said something to the effect of, “I’m pissed you just did that but don’t worry about it now. You better get someplace good ‘cause you’re about to start tripping SO HARD.”
I figured OB would be the best place to spend my trip and headed to the trolley station. At some point during the commute to the beach I picked up some generic East County reject that I had met sometime before and I was starting to get pretty high by the time we got there. I quickly convinced some hippies to get us stoned and that’s when things started to get really weird. As I was entering the swirling hell of a bad peak on LSD, my weak-willed companion was having similar problems with the weed. I had stopped hearing peoples’ voices and was instead hearing their inner spirit animals. His had been descending further and further into angry growls and what words I could comprehend were very hostile towards our hippie friends. I decided I needed to get away from all this bad energy and headed down the beach amid howls and growls from everyone hanging out on the wall.
Eventually I stumbled back towards the main drag of boardwalk and saw my idiot friend getting rousted by the cops. This sent me into a frightful panic and I made my way into an alley as nonchalantly as possible. I hid in a carport with my jacket over my head for the rest of the night.