Anyway, he left, and we pulled out while admiring our acquisition. Next stop? Aquarium. We plugged it into Mike’s GPS, and drove there. We parked on the 4th story of the garage, and spent longer admiring it. We contemplating taking some there, and tripping in the aquarium, but we didn’t have nearly enough time for any kind of long lasting psychedelic. Instead, we stashed it in the glove box, and left, making sure to lock the car and hide anything suspicious.

We got our aquarium tickets, one from the kiosk, and 2 from some strange lady. Made us feel good to see someone crazier than us. At least, in spite of our dangerous, self  destructive, dirty lives we were able to function in society and seem relatively normal.

Inside the aquarium was awesome. They have an amazing tunnel surrounded with fish, and a moving walkway through the middle. It was pretty fantastic, we got some good photos, including some of starfish eating, which is a bizarre spectacle. There was also a fantastic octopus, but that was slightly ruined from some douchey kid with a laser pointer. He was shining it in the octopus’s eye, which would be incredibly disorienting to the animal. Jim said loudly that he should be shot. A number of people agreed.

After we got cookies. They were delicious and disgustingly sweet. We went to the car and left. Traffic sucked, it took us a fucking long time to get out. While driving we discussed distribution and manufacture of our purchase. It was either blotter or sugar cubes. we talked about getting sugar cubes on the way back, but Mike had to be home. While driving, we also talked about what we could mix, what we should try to get next, who we could sell to, when we could do it. Important things like that.

Mike dropped Jim and I at my house, and left. He probably got in trouble. I drove Jim home. Mike kept the stuff, safe in his room, in a cool dark place.

This time, Jim and Icame early, and along with Jamal were MaTT and Bella. MaTT’s cool, I like him a lot, and we were pretty close. He had shit luck as far as life was concerned, but he was always happy and never let all the shit he had to put up with bother him. The only thing he did do was talk about how much of a whore his sister was. Evidently she was a pretty whore-ish whore. I was happy to see him. Bella on the other hand, I was apathetic about. Her and Donna (Who I mentioned last time) were pretty close, and I’m sure she knew about the little fling Donna and I had. Because of that I got a bothersome feeling of angst whenever she’d look at me mysteriously.

More on Bella, she was around 5’4″ and had bright red hair. She had some kind of ugly piercing, lip I think, and was not a particularly nice sight. It was a tragedy really, because her fairly shapely body, was disgustingly offset by her enormously wide head. Anyway, she’d never done anything against me, so I had no problem.

It came up pretty quickly that she had a nasty cocaine habit. It was funded by her mostly absent parents who’d shower her with money. She had just started using, but could already be classified as a fiend. It didn’t matter though, she was cool, and we were friendly. After some monotony at Jamal’s, we eventually made our way to Bella’s. It was a mundane apartment in a fairly sleazy neighborhood, but no-one could complain. She was about the 9th story, and the climb was a bitch, not for MaTT though, who decided to go all the way up without touching a single step. He weaved between the rails, climbing each floor adeptly. All in all it was crazy shit.

Before we’d even thought of going there though, Bella’s crazy Ex boyfriend had been calling her and she’d been ignoring it. This will come into play later. Anyway, we get to the top and go in, it’s pretty nice, and had a somewhat homey feel, although it also gave off the vibe of heavy substance abuse, namely tobacco and alcohol. Nothing was apparent, but it had the atmosphere of a bar, dim and yellow. We immediatly ventured to Bella’s room, which was much brighter, but not nicer. The carpet looked like dirty astroturf, and there was a dirty martess leaning on the wall, that had probably bourne witness to unspeakable acts. Bella lit up a cigarette and we talked for a while, mostly about nothing, but it shifted rapidly between drugs, people, music, and obscenity.

Speaking of obscenity, after about half an hour MaTT got bored, and requested my help. He took both my hands, and wrapped them around his neck. He said he’s tap my hands, when he wanted me to stop. I squeezed until his eyes just barely rolled back into his head and he started tapping. Everyone knew that MaTT was a little odd, and this was nothing but mild fun, so it continued for another forty five minutes. It started with hands, but quickly moved to a belt, and eventually we tied a noose to get the full effect. A allowed him to suffocate me a few times also, never one to avoid a new experience. I can’t say I didn’t totally dislike it either, as the onset of hypoxia is truly a rush.

Anyway, we setteled down, and MaTT started thumbing a small gold chain. Bella was now showing off her collection of spare coke baggies, probably 10, all empty. Jamal had taken the chain from MaTT and started heating it up with a lighter. MaTT said do it, so Jamal lowered the red hot metal onto MaTT’s hand. MaTT yelped, but Jamal refused to move it off. Everyone was shocked as the skin on MaTT’s had sizzled, and he finally got it off when he punched Jamal. The chain had left a greusome figure-8 on his hand. Jamal protested, saying he thought MaTT liked it, but everyone knew he’d taken it too far. It didn’t matter though, we weren’t ones to let something like that bring us down, especially MaTT.

We moved out of Bella’s room, to the living room. By now her crazy ex was calling frequently. She had just shown us a dictionary she’d found on her dad’s bookshelf. Inside it was a lockbox. She’d stolen his keys once, and said it had handcuffs inside. I was uncomfortable. Her boyfriend called again. I asked for the phone. Putting on my best gruff voice, I answered.

Hello?

Where’s Bella?

And who may I ask is calling?

It’s Sean, her boyfriend?

Who did you want again?

Bella! My Girlfriend!

Oh, umm, is she the redhead? One sec, she’s not really in a situation to talk.

What do you mean? This is her phone!

I mean, she’s not really dressed for it.

What the fuck are you talking about?

Listen, we’re at a party, she’s all tied up. Figuratively, and I believe literally.

Are you fucking my girlfriend? I’ll fucking kill you!

Bella grabs the phone and hangs up. Everyone cracks up. He calls back and the process repeats itself. After an hour, everyone had gotten to talk to him, and the fictious party had at least 15 individuals. He was pissed when Bella finally told him to call back tomorrow, but he stopped calling. We left back to Jamal’s and Jim and Bella went their own way. I found out on the way to Jamal’s that they were getting a $60 sack of cocaine, enough for all of us, if we only did a little. We also found that Mike was coming, which we were happy about.

We got to Jamals, and hung out for a while, and soon Bella and Jim got there. they had the coke, but Mike hadn’t arrived. Being the nice people we are, we decided to start without him. Bella did hers first, then Jim, as MaTT was going down to snort his, I told them to cut me in, and they oured more out and cut them for me. Big lines, bigger than I do now. I looked at them nervously, and bent down towards the mirror with a cut section of straw in hand. Snort. Snort.

The initial feeling was of raw energy and euphoria, I wanted to talk, to move. It was beautiful. At first I snuggled between MaTT and Bella feeling very happy and loving the hightened sense of touch. The stillness was too much for me, and I demanded we go out side. Everyone agreed, and upon exiting Bella lit a cigarette, and everyone sat down. I, however, began to walk in circles. The others critiqued my circled, so they degenerated into octogons, which were very fun as well. Around this time Mike came, and we went back inside to do more.

Mike got extra lines because he’d been gone earlier, but everyone else got about 1 and a half. It was then decided that we needed to go to Safeway to grab some drinks and snacks. The drive there was great, I went with Mike and moved with the music in his backseat. At Safeway I got a pack of gum and a redbull, and a slice of cake for Jim, it was just after his birthday, plus he likes cake. As I checked out, the cashier, a cool looking Hispanic kid looked at my gum and said, man I’d have just stole this. I couldn’t think of a good reply, so I just laughed, agreed, paid, and danced my way out of the store. I gave Jim his cake and he ate it. I also mentioned the cashier to Bella and Mike, who decided that it was an ideal oppertunity to get some liquor. They decided on Vodka, and bought it no problem., having to tip slightly more than they’d have liked.

I hammered back the redbull, and snorted a little, to dislodge the coke stuck in my nose hair. The combination, a ‘Redball’ was intense. I immediatly get a second trip and I was so active and excitable on the trip back it was almost humorous. We got back, and hing out in Jamal’s room talking and passing the vodka around. I didn’t realize how drunk I was getting because the coke held off the effects.

Jim and Bella were in Jamal’s bed together, until he kicked them out. They protested, but eventually got out and went back to Bella’s place. I was disgusted. I love Jim as a friend but the guy has awful taste in women. They fucked all night. That’s their story. Mine wasn’t done yet. I had some more vodka, and we put on Monsters Inc. We were watching it when I started coming down. Hard. I was coming straight from a stimulant euphoria, into a depressant slump. I sat in the corner, but paranoia had set in. Every shadow was something moving, and it wouldn’t stop. MaTT noticed, and comforted me. It helped. He was a godsend.

I eventually fell into a restless sleep.

I woke up and went home. I had a box lacrosse game that day. I played like a maniac and we won easily. Later I was bored, so I called a particularly desperate ex and picked her up. She bitched about how I shouldn’t do drugs and how I’d die. She sucked me off then bitched more. Then I went to the record store and got a CD.

All-in-all, a good weekend.

When the day of the show rolls by, I call Mike, but he doesn’t pick up. I’d forgotten he’d lost his phone in Hawaii (which is another story in itself). I was pissed, and the nearer it got to showtime the more worried I got. Finally I decided to fuck him and take the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit i.e. the train). I was really not looking forward to this because recently the BART cops had killed some fucker, and I was not down for dealing with over aggressive, underpaid, armed men.

For those who haven’t heard about the BART shooting, a black man was riding the train with his 3 or 4 year old child in the early hours of New Years ’09. Some shit went down, and ultimately some BART cop pinned him to the ground. While he was on the ground, the cop pulled his gun and shot him in the back. He then handcuffed him while he lay on the ground  dying, and proceeded to laugh maniacally, and throw on a Klan hood. (Everything after the word ‘dying’ is a lie, but it might as well be true.) Anyway, this was in Oakland, and soon after some crazy shit went down. Full on riots with flipped cars, burning dumpsters, armored police and flying bricks. Because of all this, I was thrilled to find I’d have to switch trains in Oakland, which mean waiting in the station for a good 10 minutes. Joy.

Ultimately I did ride the train, and it was fairly uneventful. The people on the train were about as boring and/or crazy as you expect on a train, and I was fortunate enough not to get shanked, robbed, shanked and robbed, or shot by police on my ride.  I got off in Downtown Berkeley, and checked a map. The route to Gilman St was pretty simple so I started walking. and walking. and walking.

After about half a mile I checked a small map at a bus stop, and realized I’d been going the wrong direction. Fuck. I also realized that the walk was much farther than I’d realized. About 3 miles farther. I started running, back the way I came, and then on the right path. I basically looked like a maniac, running full sprint in curdoury pants, and a heavy ‘Royal Mail’ Jacket with rolled up sleeves. In retrospect, I was lucky the cops didn’t talk to me, because I looked like I’d robbed someone and was running away. Anyway, it was a pain in the ass, but I went all 3 miles dead sprint. About halfway there Mike called and said he’d be late, and that he was in ‘Frisco with his girlfriend. I thanked him for the warning, and for all his help, and set back running, intent on getting there on time.

Finally I arrived, an hour late, but I only missed some shitty opening band (Matammotopus or something like that). I paid $10 for the show, and a $2 ‘Membership Fee’, and got in, although I was considerable poorer. The stamp they gave was noticeable cool, it was a pair of hands pressed together in prayer.

The inside is pretty cool, black walls with grafitti and band names and shit. A few couches and arm chairs in the back. It has a nice tastefully sleazy feel. There was a rules sign that I looked at for a while, and didn’t read. The bathrooms were probably the most frightening addition to the club. I didn’t notice the women’s so much, but the mens had a swinging half door, which lead into a bright room plastered on every surface with sharpie graffiti and stickers. And, when I say every surface, I don’t exaggerate, they plastered the walls, cieling, floor, mirror, sinks, urinal, inside and out, and about every inch of the toilette. After having a feel for the place I decided: It was a classy affair.

After having looked around, I realized that I was thouroughly bored, and wandered over to the merch table. It was then that I noticed the one glaring flaw of this club. Crowding the Made Out of Babies section of the table was 4 or 5 girls, no older than 14, tops, being supervised by a pair of apathetic moms. Each girl had a pair of cheap stunnas (Shitty plastic sunglasses that are worn by: A. Idiots, B. People who are high, C. Idiots who are high, and D. Hipsters and psuedo hipsters.)

I groaned obviously as I walked thhrough them to look at the table. Giant Squid had some good merch there, I decided if Mike ever showed, I’d have him spot me some cash.

Eventually Braveyoung came on. I’d never heard them, and they were pretty good. I was satisfied. The little flock of 12-year-olds seemed bored, and one if not both of the moms left soon after this band. After Grayceon came on, they were one of the two bands I came for. They were legit, as always. They opened with The West, and played a great set, including some new stuff. Mike also showed up about half-way through, which was nice, at least I’d have a ride back. He also brought the llello, and I can’t say I wasn’t a little excited.

Giant Squid was up next, and we were both psyched for them, but we had about 30-45 minutes while they set up, so we went to get donuts (2 Cinnamon sugar ones for the price of one), and hit up and ATM, where Mike spotted me $20. I was good for it, once I got home and whipped out my fat jar full of loose change. The ATM he went to was in a liquor store, and the line for it was quite long. Some people just don’t understand the importance of keeping a large amount of alcohol around.

We get back just before Giant Squid has started, and wait.  The music in the club goes off and the lights go down. Giant Squid’s singer spends a little longer tuning, saying they weren’t exactly ready yet. Meanwhile, I point out this chick in the audience who looks like Donna, a girl I hooked up with a while ago, except the hair was different. This girl had long red and blonde dreadlocks, Donna had shorter ones. This chick had a cuter face than Donna, but Donna had by far the better body. I was satisfied with myself. It later turned out that this girl was Karyn Crisis (Actual Name, check her out), we found it out when she popped on stage to accompany Giant Squid during Throwing a Donner Party At Sea.

Their set was amazing, Panthalassa, Dead Man Slough (Which Aaron Gregory described as ‘Ska’), Throwing a Donner Party At Sea, Blue Linckia, and a few others I’m sure. It was fantastic, and made the night, and the 3 miles run worth it. After, I picked up a CD, and a (very nice) T-Shirt, and Mike and I stepped out side for a refresher.

We each did 2 or 3 lines in his car. Descent coke, and necessary for what was to come. I’m not too big a fan of Made Out of Babies, but I appreciate Julie Christmas in Battle of Mice (another band), and I really had no reason to leave. The coke just would take the edge off the slightly annoying vocals.

When we got in, slightly up, chewing berry gum, and waiting for the drip to hit, all the little kiddies had gathered in the front and were waiting. I suppose they saw the singer as a role model or something. Anyway, Made Out of Babies started, with Julie Christmas mumbling in a fairly insane manner, and the little girls were shrieking annoyingly. The music was ok. The bassist creeped me out though, all he did was stand in the corner and sometimes flip on and off a noise track for the songs. They also were bitches about the monitor speakers.

The upside was that the little girls were trying to mosh, and kept rudel bumping into some guy trying to enjoy it. He was kind enough to give them a firm shove back into eachother whenever they came near him. He almost knocked one over a few times. It was thouroughly entertaining. The drip came and went pretty quickly, but we didn’t do enough for a real trip. Still, it was nice to stim up, loosen out, and be able to dance a little without having to think too much about it.

At the end of the set the singer ran straight off the stage to the bathroom, and the bassist thank everyone and what not. It was chuckle worthy. Mike and I also said ‘hi’ to Aaron Gregory (Giant Squid’s singer, and a very friendly guy.) We bounced and drove back to my place. It was late so the drive was rediculously fast, we probably went at least 80 the whole way. When we got home, I grabbed my box of change, dumped it into a bag(the bag was actually a hat), and we drove to Safeway to dump the change into a Coinstar machine. The total was slightly over $50, and we were cheering the whole time, finding the slow counting awesome. We probably got some strange looks from the few cashiers still there as we were there at 3 AM, cheering as the machine ticked up, and we were probably sniffling a lot.

Using the rejected coins and some of Mike’s change, we bought a blueberry cake. I also paid him back, reminding him that I said I was good for it. After, we went home, and ate it with my younger brother (Who’s 12, and god knows why he was up at 3AM), the we slept. All-in-all, a fantastic night.

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.

My sophomore band class took a cruise ship to Ensanada, Mexico. That sentence alone should probably indicate where this goes, but for the uninformed, I’ll elaborate. Cruise ships and Mexico are both lawless and dangerous places. Ungodly things can take place in the compact rooms, bright carpeted halls, decorative swimming pools, and all manner of gaudy locals one might find on a cruise ship. The same can be said about the dusty streets and busy sidewalks of Ensanada. Luckily, the following story happened on the ship, and I’m lucky enough to be writing this with all my organs intact. I would have hated to have had awoken in a bathtub full of ice with one, or perhaps even 2 strange scars where my kidneys should be. Anyway, on with the story.

It was the final night of the trip and all the mandatory festivities were over, this meant that we were blessed with the oppertunity to create our own. This took many forms as the night progressed. Illegal gambling over dangerous public wrestling matches, causing disturbances, lying and decieving, but it eventually progressed to the obvious pinnacle: Vodka. 6 Bottles. We got it from an older Irish gentleman in the room next to ours. He was there with another Hispanic fellow, and no one was interested in asking about the nature of their relationship. The ‘We’ that I referred to was myself, Jim (a british friend slightly older than me and who I’m sure I’ll be mentioning frequently), Jake (He looked like Jesus, little more need be said), Matt (A very stereotypical Jew, not much else to say), and some 4th guy who looked like a weasel, I’ll be calling him Weasel. The men also offered us vicodin, which we politely declined. We took the vodka back to our room, and began plans to distribute it to basically every other underage person on the ship. While distributing it, Will-Burn, one of the members of the ship’s crew, and all around good guy brought 2 six packs of beer which we readily accepted. After this, everything gets hazy, so I present you with a list of events gathered from the sullied minds of Jim and myself after the events:

A Finnish friend in the room was snorting brown sugar. He was kind of an idiot so this was nothing unusual. Jim says that happened before we started drinking, and I have no reason not to believe him.

We start drinking, we get through about 2/3 of the bottle in 10 minutes, chasing with beer. I tried to count shots, and believe we drank somewhere between 12 and 20 each, but that number is an estimate, and could be a fabrication, regardless, we drank a lot.

The other 3, that is, those who weren’t me or Jim were basically cheering us on. Weasel made me uncomfortable, he was the kind of guy who looked like he was always ready to kill you, and would have enjoyed it.

Pretty soon after/during the drinking Jim and I were kicked out. I could already see Jim starting to go. We had too much. I was still somewhat coherent, so I propped Jim up and took him to the dining hall to get bread.

After much stumbling and bumping into doors, walls, and eachother, we reached the cafeteria to find a disturbing lack of bread, luckily there was pizza. I spent the next indeterminate amout of time forcing Jim to eat some to do what I could to help.

After this we decided to go to Akiko’s room. She was a Walrus-like half-Asian half-German who was only slightly meaner than Hitler, and about half as cute. We were not let in. According to Jim we crashed here for a little while and moved on. I remember absolutely nothing past this point.

We crashed in an elevator for a little, accompanied by a group of less drunk 20 something people who evidently found us amusing.

Jim spent some time in his room screaming. I’m not sure where I was druing this, maybe in my room.

Jim was gone, people were trying to subdue him. He was throwing up. According to him I was in my room.

Jim was subdued, so I decided I needed to restart the party, but that I mean bursting into the hall and vomiting everywhere. Classy.

According to the  reports of others I:

• Vomited nearly every color of the rainbow, the most vivid being dark brown.
• Repeatedly called for Monica (A slightly cute, but otherwise completely uninteresting Asian girl) to save me, and that no one could help me but her.
• Walk up to a chaperone and asked, “Do these glasses make me look fucked up?” Whether or not I had on glasses at the time is unknown.

I also woke up drunk, making my morning of scolding and punishment quite tolerable, and infact enjoyable.

When I got home, my parents were none-too-pleased.