Buy! Part 1

31Aug09

I live a double life. One is innocent, normal, and relatively uneventful, the other is much more sinister. I am by day, so to speak, a student and a fairly normal person. By night though, again metaphorically, I am a violent, dangerous, raving, psychopathic, lunatic drug-fiend. This is about the evil half:

I just bought four hundred dollars of LSD. The original plan was to go to the aquarium, and to be honest (that is if this becomes a police matter) we did go to the aquarium, but, the more interesting part of the story rests in the trip there.
I tend to be an honest person, so don’t hesitate to believe absolutely everything I say (unless otherwise noted). It was a Monday, not a very interesting day usually, but it would suffice for an aquarium trip, especially after the plans eroding the previous day. I woke up well after noon, and had planned to wake up later, but at 12:26 I received a phone call from a friend, Jim. In the British accent that had slowly been fading since I’d met him he asked when we were meeting. I asked him what the fuck he was talking about, but before he could respond, and even a little before I finished my question I corrected myself, yawning and saying I didn’t know, but to call Mike while I took a shower and to call me later.

It was a nice shower, but I hurried out and grabbed my phone. Only after that did I get dressed and antsy as I awaited his call. Eventually, I called him, and he said 2:00, Mike was driving. Fuck I said, why does the Asian have to drive? Because he has the car. Oh, fuck, we’re dead. My dad had overheard and agreed. After the phone call I had breakfast with my family who, for some reason, are into eating breakfast at 1:30.

Bacon, eggs, and grits; it was delicious. I ate it quickly, and finished at exactly 2:00. Mike was 15 minutes late, and Jim came to the door, at 2:15. Somewhere in there, I brushed my teeth. I ran to my dad, and borrowed twelve bucks. Then I went to my mom, she had no money. Jim was still waiting, chuckling. I called for my brother. He gave me twelve more. Twenty four dollars, that’s enough for food and the aquarium. Jim and I ran back to Mike’s beat up black Jetta. Jim hopped in the passenger seat, and I in the back driver’s side. I said hi to Mike and we left.

We peeled down the 280 at about eighty, music playing, Jim, Mike and I talking, Mike looking half at the road, and half at his cell phone, texting, Jim looking at Mike, and terrifiedly looking at the road, and me, leaning between the two front seats, so I could hear over the heavy bass. I lied when I said we were going eighty, we went up the on ramp between forty and fifty; this was the peaceful part of the ride. We were up to seventy in the slow lane, I was clutching the two seats, as he accelerated to ninety while passing the more reasonable drivers. Finally we settled at between eighty and ninety in the fast lane, and the trip had begun.

The purpose of the trip was the aquarium, we all knew this, but Jim and Mike had ulterior motives. Not that I minded, ulterior motives are in fact the best kind of motives, and the aquarium would only provide about an hour of entertainment. Since we were going to the city, Jim decided to call a friend’s dealer. He allegedly had a quarter pound of mushrooms. Psilocybin mushrooms are a rarity in these parts, and for $400 it was a hard offer to pass up. If anything, we could have a bit of fun, then turn the rest for massive profit.

He called, the rest was a little hazy, I was starting to crash, and I was never too up to begin with, seeing as I’d only had about half of the 1200 milligrams of caffeine I have daily. I didn’t have time to brew myself a full pitcher of coffee. Somewhere around then I asked Mike if he’d brought cocaine. I needed a few lines. He didn’t, disappointingly. Anyway, because of this, I don’t remember the phone call all too well, but I’d like to believe it went something like this:

Who’s this?

Mike, Timmy said you had shrooms.

Yeah, how much?

Timmy said you had a quarter pound for $400, we want it.

No, but I have acid.

How much?

130 hits for $400.

Can we get less?

No.

You gonna be around?

Yeah.

Cool, we’ll call you back.

What followed was an amusing and terrifying flurry of phone calls, text messages, yelling, mumbling, and celebrating. Everyone who might possibly be interested was called. That much acid was beyond the scope of what three reasonable people could take, and because of the unfortunate prohibition on substances such as LSD, we needed to get it and get rid of it all in the same breath, keeping just enough for tasteful personal use.

Everyone who wanted shrooms was called. Some wanted acid, some didn’t. The decisions themselves weren’t surprising, but the reasons were. So many people claimed to be afraid of synthetic drugs. Cocaine, heroin, PCP, meth, X, mescaline, none of these appealed to them, they were too dangerous. Marijuana, psilocybin, peyote, tobacco even, these were all fine, they come from the earth. Morning Glories, Hawaiian Baby Woodrose, Datura, one has to assume these are ok too, they’ll love three day blackouts and waking up naked in the desert with no idea what happened the past three days, and a strange taste of regret in the back of their throat. But at least what they did was as nature intended.

Of course even though their logic is flawed, the principal is alright, it’s really just a matter of picking your poison. Some pick uppers, some downers, dissociatives, hallucinogens, psychedelics, it doesn’t matter. As the current political and economic atmosphere, I predict uppers becoming popular and psychedelics to a lesser extent. With Obama coming into office, people really do want change, not just governmental, but psychological too, people want to be happy, most of all they want to resist the recession. These seem to often come with Democratic administrations. Weed was popular under Clinton, whether you inhaled or not, and I’m sure cocaine will see a rise under Obama, because we already know how to inhale, because that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Anyway, after the myriad phone calls, we decide to buy it, the risk being worth the reward. Mike called the dealer up and asked if he was still cool. He said yes, and we could get it in about an hour. By then, it was 3:01, and we were in the city, on 19th heading towards Lincoln. Traffic was light, we had an hour to kill, and we were about to buy four hundred dollars worth of LSD, so naturally we headed to Haight Street. Tim and mike had no idea how to get there, so I guided:

Left on Lincoln, keep right, pass Kezar, make a left at the 4 way intersection, and make a right at the McDonalds.
First stop was the bank, we needed money. Disappointingly, it was Memorial Day, and not having a debit card, I wasn’t able to make a withdrawal, but Jim and Mike took two hundred each, and I could pay them back later. We were going to grab food, but we didn’t have time, so we went back to Lincoln, sweating with excitement. He said he’d meet us at 24th by the park. Jim called back to ask how to get there, just go down Lincoln towards Ocean Beach. Jim couldn’t quite hear, but it sounded like he’d be wearing a weed cap. Mike and I quickly corrected him, saying he probably meant tweed. There was an elderly Asian woman wearing one around 21st. Is that him, I asked.

On Lincoln, by 24th, next to the park, there was a parking spot about 6 inches longer than the actual car. It was a long shot, but through some miracle Mike made it in. Later, Jim and I came to the conclusion that he only made it because he was such a bad driver he was used to parking in spots too small, and this one was just slightly larger than normal. Once parked, we waited. We were nervous, no one said it, but the fear and uncertainty was thick in the air. We’d already counted out the $400. $340 was in twenty dollar bills, the rest was a fifty and a ten.

Back to the hat, that was the main identifying factor, all he said was tweed hat. We did see him, not in a tweed hat, but clearly him. Jim shot him a phone call and he came across the street. His baggy jeans and thick brown coat made him remarkably suspicious, and it wasn’t helped by the black hat he was wearing, covered with pot leaves. It was a weed hat and a bad joke.

Filed under: Uncategorized   |  Leave a Comment