This is an old post but one that I think is entertaining and will live on. Enjoy.
>12/30/2000, somewhere in southern California, San Diego county. My friend and I are driving , possibly home from a drunken night, possibly after trying to catch a morning surf (this detail eludes me). It’s morning. An advertisement comes on the radio, one we cannot ignore. With the fear of Y2K and imminent world destruction, Las Vegas Nevada is only about 50% booked. Hotels on the strip are releasing rooms for out of season prices. After this ad ran, there was a dramatic pause in the car. In slow motion, we looked at each other. “Bro, you wanna go to Vegas?” Within an hour, we went to his pad and with a quick stop at mine, we were down the road. Loud music and singing, classic hanging from the car windows announcing to passerby’s, “were going to Vegas!!!” He reaches to the volume and softens the mood. “I picked something up…You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to….” The dude opens his coat pocket and from it comes a little baggy with a couple tiny specs of paper in it. “You ever tried acid?” That night I would.
It is well documented that in my younger years I was tortured. My bother, 6 years older than me and closest sibling, was always coming up with new ways to make me suffer. I think just for being born. There was a group of them, 4. The extent of the plots to torment me were straight from Hollywood plots, I believe hours of planning and rehearsal went into some of these. However, improv was a strength of Scott’s too. It was a nice fall day, I got off the bus and took my short walk home. I got a headache later in the day , perhaps from the florescent lights in school, perhaps from a babbling lecture. I found a bottle of Tylenol in our shared bathroom (the enemy and mine). The label was ripped off but I ignored that and quickly inhaled a couple capsules. In walks big bro, perfect fucking timing. “You didn’t take those…did you?” “Yeah, I got a headache…” With his jaw open and almost a parental care in his voice, he sat me on the edge of the tub and explained to me what LSD was. Terrified, I stayed in the bathroom for several minutes, crying of course. When I finally exited the door I found Scott. He was in our living room on the lazy boy laughing at the television and holding nothing. He took a sip from his phantom coffee cup and said, “this is a funny ass episode, have you seen it?” The screen was blank. I hauled ass to my room and stayed there for the night, fearful of the hallucinations. The next day at school, I confided with a few of my closest friends that I was a hardcore drug user. (scary but kind of bad-ass) A couple “weeks” later, just in passing, “hey, you remember that Acid you dropped….it was just Tylenol….” So gulable, dooped again by a great performance. Well played evil-brother.
Fast forward over ten years to my “second” brush with the narcotic, “I’ll be right here with you.” My friend encouraged me that I would be alright. The day before New Year’s Eve we arrived on the outskirts and got a room at Sunset Station for 30 bucks. With dinner and showers done I carefully put two of the paper tabs under my tongue. We grabbed a couple beers and headed to the casino. Keep in mind our room in on the first floor, probably 50 yards or so from the first slot/poker machines. We both had a pocket full of quarters that we had purposely brought in order to take advantage of the “complimentary” drinks. The strategy is to drop these coins in one at a time, watch the crazy people go by and enjoy the beverages. This technique was quickly abandoned as I got into my game, with my head down I put all of my money into the machine and became obsessed (hardcore gaming). Loser, I reached for my wallet but wisely earlier in the evening we decided to leave our wallets and money in the room. I looked up from the machine and what greeted me was a whole new planet. Colors streaked through the sky (indoors), people’s faces were distorted, voices loud and language I’ve never heard. “Holy shit, I’m trippin! But why?” It took me several minutes to realize the earlier events. I began to grip my seat as the scene intensified, I couldn’t do it. Probably not the best place to have your first journey, the floor of a bustling casino! I looked over and my loyal companion, he was just staring, a slight grin. “Dude, I can’t do this!” I exclaimed, probably yelling. We ventured back to our room. When we got to the hallway, the paisley carpet was growing up the wall. It was beautiful and horrific at the same time. It took us well over a half an hour to get back, 50 yards. The night was awful. Every time the air kicked on I thought it was a hurricane. My friend would check on me and he was a giant looking down upon me from over 100 feet. I’ve never been that scared. When I woke the next day, I felt like I played a 10 quarter football game and then got into 10 car wrecks. I drove us into Vegas. We got a room a half a block off the strip (not there anymore) for 100 dollars, awesome. At some point we got split up (before we had phones) and the last thing I remember was standing under the Eiffel Tower getting ready to count down, drunk and probably still a little fried. There were a couple guys next to me with funny accents, Jamaican I think. I must have been staring at the huge blunt the guy was smoking like a fat kid at an ice cream cone because he said, “What up white boy? You want a pull?” “Yep.” Lights out. I woke in our room, with the sense that I had a good time. The drive back home was long, it hurt. It was my first and last experience with LSD. I’m kind of glad I had a bad trip because it made me NOT want to ever try it ever again. This is the shortened version of this story. There are a few details I left out in order not to bore you and so in the book you will be freshly entertained