gonzojournilist Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 These are lsd tablets It's almost 2am and I can't sleep so while I drink this nite cap of nyquil here's a storylist of events that happened to me new years eve 1995 - 96*december 30-at the mixing labs me and Jim mix up 5 two liter bottles of liquir.jolly ranchers.mudslides.minderaser (jeas after that one someone had to relize some liquor was missing from the resturant bar) .rum and coke (bumped some coke also).and cosmipolitan-of course they all tasted like shit because who the fuck makes drinks in 2 liter bottles?**december31 .when the shit really hit the fan-9 am my crew of 12 meet up at the staten island ferry terminal-drinking starts on the ferry and continues through the train ride up to 42nd street train station - @ that big train station on 42nd cant think of the name but anyway none of us were able to function right-after a half hour we find out we are suppose to be at penn station -we decide to walk since we had 90 minutes b4 the train left--I buy a new years horn --two others buy a new years horn-tourists are out and about at 10 in the morning--we calmly walk up to them and blow the horn in there face--Mike not relizing he is blowing so hard that he is actually spitting also--some pakistani dude gets pissed --we get some what marker crazy--writing on everything in sight--young man gets into a cab and has a few words to say,--"you hooligans is what brings this city down"--we said "FUCK OFF"--he said, "I'll kill all of yous"???? ?????--Dennis runs to the cab and spits right in his face--cab takes off--we laugh and talk about how weird that was for the next hour or so**on the AMTRACK to philly-still drinking -one hitters start to happen in restrooms-dennis is brawling with his girl-the both of them at the top of there lungs screaming**If you ever rode an amtrack train you would know what I am talking about. There are these seats where the backs can move so you can face another seat or have your back towards it. Its hard to explain -Dennis gets so pissed he shoves the back of the seat in front of him and it slides forward-the man sitting in the seat falls on his face-Dennis tries to appoligize-the man tells the conductor-the conductor wants Dennis off the train-we came up with a deal that through the ride Dennis gets time out in the next car by himself-we laugh at Dennis while being escorted to the next car-for some reason the man who told the conductor moved to another car also?-Mike tells me about a bag that has been sitting without an owner for the last two stops -WE TAKE A LOOK ON WHAT'S IN THE BAG-Mike finds a check book-I find a roll of Quarters-Mike freaks and pulls out five red sticks -gets up and yells at our friend who were behind us, holding 2 of the red sticks in his left hand and pointing to them with his right-"It's a BOMB!"-old people in the back freaked-drunken girls we were with freaked-John says, "Road Flares idoit"-we relize it was the conductors bag -we put it back -a stop passes-the conductor freaked -he yells, "Which one of you mother fuckers has my check book"-we all have this look--->?????????? ???????? ??????-conductor says I am going to leave when I come back the book better be in the bag-condutor leaves-Mike tosses the book on the seat right next to the bag-I said out load, "he wants it in the mutherfuckin bag"-Mike says, "fuck you"-conductor gets the bag and leaves-we all had a sigh of relif thinking it was over-train stops -exactly 8 officers and 3 vans were at the stop-all of us kicked off the train-searched-2 ounces of weed and brass knuckles were found-everyone scared-girls crying-COPS took our weed and LET US GO? -got in the hotel -hotel was filled with ravers to the brim-@the party purchased two hits of x -SAG1 finds acid-tablets?-who cares-consume the x and acid as it hits 96-half hour later started seeing crazy shit-**all the lights come on-music is still running-EMS on the hunt-witnessed someone being strapped on a stretcher upside down-witnessed someone else being hauled away yelling and screaming strapped in -while sceaming his head was vigoruosly pounding on the back of the stretcher -I ask SAG where are they taking him?-he took 2 tablets so he is tripping even harder than me -he answers in a calm tone,-"hell"-this is becoming too much for my mind-I flip out-my hands were whaling across the air-yelling at poor ravers around me -"What The Fuk Is Going On In Here?!?!"-Sag and Cie try to calm me down -I relize I am next if I keep this up-I stop*lights were still on during that whole thing-lights go off-I remember giving some kid a weird look-going up to him and saying out of nowhere-"YO!"-"You got all these red dots moving across your face""You don't understand what I am seeing right now"-relize after a minute or two he had an acme problem-I walked away laughing out loud by myself-left the party at 4 and had plans to come back-the trip was at it's peak -it was at it's peak since the first half hour I took it?-saw some girl outside singing some bullshit about saving the seals-John walks over to talk to her?-we grab him and threw him in the cab-a couple of blocks from the hotel there were 4 fire engines and cops all about-we ask the driver on what had happened -he explained that a jeep ran off the raod and fell into the creek about 15 minutes ago-I said, "stop I wanna see"-the driver stopped?-saw a raver chick in the water in the jeep trying to survive and the jaws of life being powered up-Cie tells the driver "GO, GO Get the fuk out of here"Quickly written in 20 minutes I murder the english language so there are some items you may not understandbut that was the last time I took acidout of the 4 or 5 years expermenting with that drug I never had a bad tripI did not consider that to be a bad trip I actually enjoyed itI enjoy the craziness acid just got to be too much for me I started to have split second trips when I was sober ------------------When the going gets weirdthe weird turns pro... 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trèschic Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 wow you have WAY too much time on your hands Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
gonzojournilist Posted August 30 Author Report Share Posted August 30 I can't sleepI'm fuking boreddid you like it?------------------When the going gets weirdthe weird turns pro... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
missmelody Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 classic....a hunter s. thompson in the making......(how's that for a compliment?) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
gonzojournilist Posted August 30 Author Report Share Posted August 30 Thank you very much...------------------When the going gets weirdthe weird turns pro... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jaysea Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 ill never forget the time i was at The old usa, and i did a whole sheet, and then took a few pills!! i was so fucked up!!Anyway, i was being the little club kid,i once was, and went down the slide, and got so sick!! i was throwing up on everyone!!and i threw up on this girl, And she was like"ewww"...so i looked at her and said "its ok baby, it tastes good" "it's like bubble gum"Hahahah! it was some funny shit------------------"This MuTha Fucka!! comes up to me!!! , and pulls out his D---,And gets all up in My shit, and has the mutha fukn nerve to ask "Am i hurting you" i was like "Mutha fucka, you are tickaling me, get your fat,crust,skanky,wanna be down"Fat ass off me............and pay me my 20 bucks!>> Sweet Pussy Pauline(NYC) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
kitty19 Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 gonzo, that was fuckin awesome. jaysea, you are a fuckin crackhead. luv ya!------------------*kitty19**turn it around baby* Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
smfd Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 great fucking story gonzo!!! good time killer at work. ya got anymore?~stephanie Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
NaNa Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 It was my second time tripping but hte first time wasn't that great. I was at the tunnel and had sucked this paper dry while standing on line. I was sitting on the couches off the main floor and I was watching some girl and her bf dance by the wall. All of a sudden this girl just fell to the floor. I dunno what she was on be she passed out. THAT was the beginning of my trip. I proceeded to huddle into the corner of the couch while I cried to my friends that someone should call an ambulance because I thought she had died. My friends tried to explain to me that she was fine but I wasn't understanding it. They showed me that she had gotten up again and dance but then she passed out again and hit her head on the floor. I started shivering and getting all worried that no one was going to call an ambulance for this girl. The only way for my friends to cheer me up was to make a bunny with their hand and make it jump across my face. They tell me later that I was giggling like a baby. I was sitting on that couch unable to move for about 2 hours. Not really saying anything because I couldn't get anything to come out of my mouth. After not speaking for such a long time I was observing everything around me when all of a sudden this really fat guy (i'm talkin like 300lbs) walks down the stairs from the second floor and starts dancing in the couch area with nothing but a thong on (this is fer real guys). No mind you I haven't said anything for 2 hours and all of a sudden I get up and yell out "WOW THAT GUY IS FAT!!" Sat back down and didn't talk for another hour. I wouldn't normally do something like that so it was just a little weird. I started to come down a little and we walked around and if anyone remembers there used to be carzy painting on the wall in the hallway more by Kurfew. It was all moving on me crazy shit. As I watched people dance all I saw were 2 dimensional people, they almost looked like someone had just cut them out from the comics and they were all outlined by rainbow thread. We then watched the breakers by the bar and I looked at my ex bf and his skin was melting off his face. I could literaly see his skull. That was just a lil freaky. And the fact that Eddie Baez was spinning was even worse because now I can't even listen to him. All I heard that night were monkeys in a jungle.Don't remember the drive home but i'm sure it was crazy...~ilana Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest crystalmethodny Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 GonzoYour story was hilarious...Janna - ... You're making me want to trip I'll just have to play the song later on when I get home 'Trip Like I Do'Wow------------------"We're going to build things up slowly... are you with me? Here we go." Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
back2basics Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 jannab324, great story.. were the strories published? Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jannab324 Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 b2b -- I'm glad you liked my story! Some of the stories were published in a series in an obsure magazine, "Yellow Rat Bastard." I'm actually going to try for a publishing deal later this year. Wish me luck! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jannab324 Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 b2b -- I'm glad you liked my story! Some of the stories were published in a series in an obsure magazine, "Yellow Rat Bastard." I'm actually going to try for a publishing deal later this year. Wish me luck! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
suprstr02 Posted August 30 Report Share Posted August 30 Gonzo I know u know my acid story...Remember me talkin to Delta9 for like 20 min and then I was like I have no clu what we were talking about...I think I said something about him and Lenny Dee werte going to hell to make new records...and "TELL THE BITCH YOUR TRIPPIN"...and then the fucking ride home we just followed any car that had a NY license plate Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
back2basics Posted August 31 Report Share Posted August 31 jannab324, loved it, there is a market for clubbing stories, it's one of the reasons i post here.I whish you luck. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
gonzojournilist Posted August 31 Author Report Share Posted August 31 Originally posted by suprstr02:Gonzo I know u know my acid story...Remember me talkin to Delta9 for like 20 min and then I was like I have no clu what we were talking about...I think I said something about him and Lenny Dee werte going to hell to make new records...and "TELL THE BITCH YOUR TRIPPIN"...and then the fucking ride home we just followed any car that had a NY license platelolyeah those were some weird times -TELL THAT BITCH YOUR TRIPPING TELL HER YOUR HIGH!!!!!!!!!following that car in Jersey was the best"I think were lost"-"no were not that car got ny plates follow him""what if it goes to Buffulo?"-"??"-"I never seen Niagra Falls?" ------------------When the going gets weirdthe weird turns pro... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jannab324 Posted August 31 Report Share Posted August 31 I don't really know many of you. I'm more of a voyeur on this board, than a poster. But being a writer, and given the subject matter, I thought I would post my little acid story. It's an excerpt from a series of stories I wrote called, "Gelatinous Funk." Back in the old school Limelight days... I only tried acid once. I’m a big fan of ecstasy and mushrooms, but acid was too much for me. I was tripping my face off for approximately 27 hours. To say the least, it wasn’t pretty. I was with Deena, my childhood best friend and Jessie, my college suitemate my freshman year. Jessie and I wanted to take Deena to the Limelight in Manhattan for her first big club experience. We wandered around the city like lost morons and were tripping so hard that once we got to Penn Station we were climaxing and couldn’t even read the signs enough to get on a train to go home. I totally remember it as an anxiety dream, the one when I’m trying to talk to someone and I lose my voice, or I can’t write because my vision is blurred. I always have dreams that I’m trying to shout out to someone and they can’t hear me. That night the anxiety dream was my reality. We were in Penn Station for hours terrorizing civilians. Or shall I say I was terrorizing civilians, especially when some stripper started taking off her clothes to music and I completely freaked out. I started screaming to her that she was exploiting herself and that she should stop before she lost every ounce of self-respect. Okay, I know, not a good idea (I guess now is a good time to mention I grew up in Columbus, Ohio and I had only been in New York for a couple months. That should explain some things). It gets worse. Seeing that I was getting absolutely no response from her, I turned to the voyeurs and started shouting at them. “Perverts! How can you do this to this poor woman?” I was sounding like a Jew for Jesus. They were probably totally expecting me to whip out a rainbow of brochures that list the positive aspects of joining a cult. Then it got messy. The police came and kind of just observed the surreal situation. I, of course, berated the cops with insults for not stopping the little show.I must admit that it must have been difficult to take me seriously. Let me describe my outfit, please do keep in mind that I was eighteen at the time. I was wearing a black babydoll dress with flowing sleeves. Sounds normal, but I’m not done. I was also wearing Dr. Seuss “Cat in the Hat” big black and white striped tights with outrageous platform go-go boots. Oh, I was quite a sight to see. But that was what I looked like before I left the club. After the club, in Penn Station, I was wearing my guidette roommate’s black leather trench coat that I borrowed because my coat was stolen at a bar. I also had layers and layers of blue and purple streamers wrapped around my neck like a boa that I had ripped down from the Cha-Cha lounge in the Limelight when they closed.That night, the Cha-Cha lounge was celebrating something or someone, and it was decorated with blue and purple streamers. The transvestites would part the streamers like velvet curtains and strut their stuff down the imaginary catwalk. Jessie, Deena and I had been following dogboy all night, this beautiful gay man who walked on all fours while being whipped by a huge transexual dominatrix. Jessie and I were completely intrigued by him, especially when dogboy’s master would instruct him to vogue. We loved it. When the lights disappointedly came on at the end of the night, I knew I wanted to take the magic of the Cha-Cha lounge with me so I tore down the streamers and wore them around my neck for the rest of the evening, or shall I say morning.So, we go to the club expecting another innocent night of dancing and drinking “smart drinks.” We sit down in one of the rooms and some skinny little guy wearing baggy pants and a sleeve on his head whispers one-by-one in each of our ears, “acid, acid.” We all just sort of blankly stare at each other and without even discussing it, come to an agreement. I pipe up, ignorantly not knowing if it would be ten dollars or a hundred dollars, “How much will it cost us?” The sleeveboy grinned and slapped his right palm in front of my face like a bad mime. “Only five dollars?” questioned the streets-of-Philly-educated Jessie. “Sounds too cheap to be true.” “Nope,” said the sleeveboy. “One hit each for five bucks, and it’s a bonus cause they’re double-dipped.”We all just kind of looked at each other for a few seconds, nodded and got out our money. Keep in mind that the three of us were completely ignorant to the drug world. Yeah, we had smoked pot, but that was really the extent of it. No mushrooms, no ecstasy, no nothing, yet. We had never done a hallucinogen and had no clue how it was going to affect us. We turned to the sleeveboy, as he kindly administered little pieces of paper on each of our tongues, as our only ally, our teacher, our mentor, if you will. We asked him everything. When would we feel it? Would we get sick? Would we see trails? Oh, we were just a bundle of questions. He must have hated us. Somehow, he stuck with us, though. I think he was trying to hook up with Jessie, which always helps. Anyway, a good hour went by and none of us felt anything. I got frustrated and went to drink at the open bar party in one of the VIP rooms. I sat there, sipping a screwdriver, watching beautiful gay men gyrate each other, when it hit me. Its hard to pinpoint the exact moment I knew I was tripping, just that it hit me all at once. I rushed through the ocean of people to find my friends. I got back to the room where I had left Jessie and Deena with the sleeveboy. Jessie was dancing around in circles and Deena was just staring straight ahead. When Jessie saw me she squealed in excitement. “You’re back! You’re back! She’s back! Are you tripping too?” Jessie said as she danced circles around me. “Deena’s was a dud. She’s not tripping.”I turned to Deena. She was sitting calmly on the bench staring at me. “I’m not tripping. Mine was a dud.” I turned to the sleeveboy for assistance. He nodded to me and whispered, “Yo, I’ll take care of her if she ain’t flyin’ in a half hour.” Enough said for the time being. We decided to explore. The sleeveboy had rallied up a little army of sleeveboys for our expedition: Alex, George and Terence. We wandered through the rooms of the Limelight, in a hand-in-hand train, enjoying the atmosphere. Jessie kept chanting, “I can’t stop dancing. I can’t stop dancing.” and Deena kept muttering “I’m not tripping. I got a dud.” Jessie and I were off our rockers. We were pointing at Deena and laughing calling her a dud. We meant it out of love. We wanted her to trip too. We begged master sleeveboy to giver her another hit. He did, and let me tell you, she had barely sucked the stamp off the piece of paper before her eyeballs looked cartoon.The three of us wandered into the bathroom. I guess I should premise this by explaining what the Limelight ladies’ bathroom was like at the time. It was basically a freak show; men, women, sex in the stalls, transvestites, lots of transvestites putting on makeup. It was quite a sight to see. So the three tripping daisies enter the bathroom and I glance in the mirror at my reflection. Big mistake, huge mistake. I distinctly remember looking in the mirror and seeing me face covered in red pimples. It looked so real, I stood in front of the mirror with my hands on my face, screaming, “Oh my God! What happened to me? Look at my fucking face!! I have acne!! Lots of acne!” I turned to Jessie. Her mouth dropped, “ohmygod, Janna. They’re there. I see them!”It was like a scene out of an oxy commercial, aside from the drag queens and the guy in the gimp mask. I totally freaked out. The drag queen sitting on the counter next to us, observing the whole scene grabbed my hands away from my face. “Sweetie, ya on something, aren’t ya? It’s the drugs, sweetie. You have beautiful skin.” Her soothing words broke the spell. I turned away from my reflection and focused on the drag queen, my God she was weird looking. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against transvestites, in fact 90 percent of the time they’re beautiful and glamorous. Not this one. She really looked like a he, minus the makeup, wig and women’s clothes. She had a five o’clock shadow as well as abnormally large cheeks, which she later explained was from a recent oral surgery procedure. She pointed her long fake blood red painted fingernail at me and exclaimed, “you, you like Brooke Shields!” She was obviously on something too. She then pointed the finger at Jessie, “You, you look like… Not Jennifer Blue, not Jennifer Green, but Jennifer Grey, yes, Jennifer Grey!” She was so excited with her epiphany about Jessie that she leapt of the counter and skipped out the door without a word.the three of us continued our prancing until closing time. Lost when the lights came on and everyone had left, we stood in the middle of the empty, blindly lit dancefloor, watching the janitors sweep away the trash. Somehow we found our way into the back of a cab. As usual, the cab driver was bantering in some other language over the radio. To the paranoid idiots that we were, this meant he was “on to us” and that he was taking us straight to the police station. We really believed that, too. I don’t know who out of the three of us actually had enough sense to tell him we were going to Penn Station, but somehow we made it. Little did we know that making it there was the least of our problems.You must consider this – we each took a double-dipped hit of acid, Deena took two, which meant that we were peaking in Penn Station. We were tripping so hard that we couldn’t comprehend the signs or schedules that would tell us which train we needed to get home. We tried waiting in line, but that definitely didn’t work. We were 100 percent unable to communicate with strangers. So, what did we do? We walked around Penn Station for four hours, completely lost. That whole stripper ordeal happened towards the end of our stay at Penn Station. Just when I was about to issue a second round of insults to the apathetic police officers, Jessie ran up to me screaming. “Guess what? Guess what? Kim’s here!”“What? No way.” It didn’t register in my mind. Kim was one of our best friends from school. She hadn’t gone with us that night because she had already made plans with people in her dorm. Kim was the best. We loved her. So anyway, I turn to where Jessie is pointing. Low and behold, I see Kim in all her strawberry blond combat-boot-wearing glory stomping towards us. “Janna!!! What do you have around your neck, darling?” Kim pulled me into an embrace.“We’re saved! We’re saved!” I chanted over and over again.“Better question, since when do you wear leather pimp coats?”I didn’t have an answer for her. In fact, I didn’t talk much until we got back to school. The train ride home was the longest commute of my life. It felt like a lifetime. Once we were finally safe back at campus, it was about 7 in the morning and, needless to say, we were all wide-awake and still tripping our faces off. We decided to prank people, let them in on our condition. Again, not smart. We danced around the room a little. I decided I wanted to try on Deena’s new boots that she bought with me the previous afternoon. Deena wears a size 5 shoe. I wear a 7 ½. So, this obviously didn’t make much sense. I managed to wedge my left foot into her tiny little boot and found myself in such excruciating pain that I quickly tried to pull the boot off. Yep, you guessed it; the boot was severely stuck. Deena tried pulling it off; Jessie tried pulling it off. No dice. I decided to ignore the pain so we could leave the room which appeared to have lost its walls in a severe nuclear meltdown and visit some of our friends in another building who were more than willing to entertain three tripping freshmen girls. It was already about 8 AM. So, I put a sneaker on my right foot and hobbled around with my left foot jammed in the cowboy boot. I wobbled across campus with my cowboy boot peg leg. My luck, the three of us run into one of my nerdy Communications 101 study buddies. We exchange polite hellos when I notice Jessie staring in disgust at my study buddy’s face. She starts pointing at her face and screaming, “Oh my god! Her face is covered in spiders!” I grabbed Jessie’s arm, wobbling away towards our friend’s room. I think I’m going to stop with this night. Enough already. You guys get the gist, right? The way it ended – Jessie couldn’t stop dancing till about 10:30 that night. I eventually got the boot off, and all three of us had backaches and ringing in our ears for a week. That’s it – my only acid experience – enough material to give me a good story, not enough to make me ever want to do it again. You want to talk ecstasy tales? There aren’t enough pages in this magazine. I’m tired anyway. Goodnight. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jannab324 Posted August 31 Report Share Posted August 31 I don't really know many of you. I'm more of a voyeur on this board, than a poster. But being a writer, and given the subject matter, I thought I would post my little acid story. It's an excerpt from a series of stories I wrote called, "Gelatinous Funk." Back in the old school Limelight days... I only tried acid once. I’m a big fan of ecstasy and mushrooms, but acid was too much for me. I was tripping my face off for approximately 27 hours. To say the least, it wasn’t pretty. I was with Deena, my childhood best friend and Jessie, my college suitemate my freshman year. Jessie and I wanted to take Deena to the Limelight in Manhattan for her first big club experience. We wandered around the city like lost morons and were tripping so hard that once we got to Penn Station we were climaxing and couldn’t even read the signs enough to get on a train to go home. I totally remember it as an anxiety dream, the one when I’m trying to talk to someone and I lose my voice, or I can’t write because my vision is blurred. I always have dreams that I’m trying to shout out to someone and they can’t hear me. That night the anxiety dream was my reality. We were in Penn Station for hours terrorizing civilians. Or shall I say I was terrorizing civilians, especially when some stripper started taking off her clothes to music and I completely freaked out. I started screaming to her that she was exploiting herself and that she should stop before she lost every ounce of self-respect. Okay, I know, not a good idea (I guess now is a good time to mention I grew up in Columbus, Ohio and I had only been in New York for a couple months. That should explain some things). It gets worse. Seeing that I was getting absolutely no response from her, I turned to the voyeurs and started shouting at them. “Perverts! How can you do this to this poor woman?” I was sounding like a Jew for Jesus. They were probably totally expecting me to whip out a rainbow of brochures that list the positive aspects of joining a cult. Then it got messy. The police came and kind of just observed the surreal situation. I, of course, berated the cops with insults for not stopping the little show.I must admit that it must have been difficult to take me seriously. Let me describe my outfit, please do keep in mind that I was eighteen at the time. I was wearing a black babydoll dress with flowing sleeves. Sounds normal, but I’m not done. I was also wearing Dr. Seuss “Cat in the Hat” big black and white striped tights with outrageous platform go-go boots. Oh, I was quite a sight to see. But that was what I looked like before I left the club. After the club, in Penn Station, I was wearing my guidette roommate’s black leather trench coat that I borrowed because my coat was stolen at a bar. I also had layers and layers of blue and purple streamers wrapped around my neck like a boa that I had ripped down from the Cha-Cha lounge in the Limelight when they closed.That night, the Cha-Cha lounge was celebrating something or someone, and it was decorated with blue and purple streamers. The transvestites would part the streamers like velvet curtains and strut their stuff down the imaginary catwalk. Jessie, Deena and I had been following dogboy all night, this beautiful gay man who walked on all fours while being whipped by a huge transexual dominatrix. Jessie and I were completely intrigued by him, especially when dogboy’s master would instruct him to vogue. We loved it. When the lights disappointedly came on at the end of the night, I knew I wanted to take the magic of the Cha-Cha lounge with me so I tore down the streamers and wore them around my neck for the rest of the evening, or shall I say morning.So, we go to the club expecting another innocent night of dancing and drinking “smart drinks.” We sit down in one of the rooms and some skinny little guy wearing baggy pants and a sleeve on his head whispers one-by-one in each of our ears, “acid, acid.” We all just sort of blankly stare at each other and without even discussing it, come to an agreement. I pipe up, ignorantly not knowing if it would be ten dollars or a hundred dollars, “How much will it cost us?” The sleeveboy grinned and slapped his right palm in front of my face like a bad mime. “Only five dollars?” questioned the streets-of-Philly-educated Jessie. “Sounds too cheap to be true.” “Nope,” said the sleeveboy. “One hit each for five bucks, and it’s a bonus cause they’re double-dipped.”We all just kind of looked at each other for a few seconds, nodded and got out our money. Keep in mind that the three of us were completely ignorant to the drug world. Yeah, we had smoked pot, but that was really the extent of it. No mushrooms, no ecstasy, no nothing, yet. We had never done a hallucinogen and had no clue how it was going to affect us. We turned to the sleeveboy, as he kindly administered little pieces of paper on each of our tongues, as our only ally, our teacher, our mentor, if you will. We asked him everything. When would we feel it? Would we get sick? Would we see trails? Oh, we were just a bundle of questions. He must have hated us. Somehow, he stuck with us, though. I think he was trying to hook up with Jessie, which always helps. Anyway, a good hour went by and none of us felt anything. I got frustrated and went to drink at the open bar party in one of the VIP rooms. I sat there, sipping a screwdriver, watching beautiful gay men gyrate each other, when it hit me. Its hard to pinpoint the exact moment I knew I was tripping, just that it hit me all at once. I rushed through the ocean of people to find my friends. I got back to the room where I had left Jessie and Deena with the sleeveboy. Jessie was dancing around in circles and Deena was just staring straight ahead. When Jessie saw me she squealed in excitement. “You’re back! You’re back! She’s back! Are you tripping too?” Jessie said as she danced circles around me. “Deena’s was a dud. She’s not tripping.”I turned to Deena. She was sitting calmly on the bench staring at me. “I’m not tripping. Mine was a dud.” I turned to the sleeveboy for assistance. He nodded to me and whispered, “Yo, I’ll take care of her if she ain’t flyin’ in a half hour.” Enough said for the time being. We decided to explore. The sleeveboy had rallied up a little army of sleeveboys for our expedition: Alex, George and Terence. We wandered through the rooms of the Limelight, in a hand-in-hand train, enjoying the atmosphere. Jessie kept chanting, “I can’t stop dancing. I can’t stop dancing.” and Deena kept muttering “I’m not tripping. I got a dud.” Jessie and I were off our rockers. We were pointing at Deena and laughing calling her a dud. We meant it out of love. We wanted her to trip too. We begged master sleeveboy to giver her another hit. He did, and let me tell you, she had barely sucked the stamp off the piece of paper before her eyeballs looked cartoon.The three of us wandered into the bathroom. I guess I should premise this by explaining what the Limelight ladies’ bathroom was like at the time. It was basically a freak show; men, women, sex in the stalls, transvestites, lots of transvestites putting on makeup. It was quite a sight to see. So the three tripping daisies enter the bathroom and I glance in the mirror at my reflection. Big mistake, huge mistake. I distinctly remember looking in the mirror and seeing me face covered in red pimples. It looked so real, I stood in front of the mirror with my hands on my face, screaming, “Oh my God! What happened to me? Look at my fucking face!! I have acne!! Lots of acne!” I turned to Jessie. Her mouth dropped, “ohmygod, Janna. They’re there. I see them!”It was like a scene out of an oxy commercial, aside from the drag queens and the guy in the gimp mask. I totally freaked out. The drag queen sitting on the counter next to us, observing the whole scene grabbed my hands away from my face. “Sweetie, ya on something, aren’t ya? It’s the drugs, sweetie. You have beautiful skin.” Her soothing words broke the spell. I turned away from my reflection and focused on the drag queen, my God she was weird looking. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against transvestites, in fact 90 percent of the time they’re beautiful and glamorous. Not this one. She really looked like a he, minus the makeup, wig and women’s clothes. She had a five o’clock shadow as well as abnormally large cheeks, which she later explained was from a recent oral surgery procedure. She pointed her long fake blood red painted fingernail at me and exclaimed, “you, you like Brooke Shields!” She was obviously on something too. She then pointed the finger at Jessie, “You, you look like… Not Jennifer Blue, not Jennifer Green, but Jennifer Grey, yes, Jennifer Grey!” She was so excited with her epiphany about Jessie that she leapt of the counter and skipped out the door without a word.the three of us continued our prancing until closing time. Lost when the lights came on and everyone had left, we stood in the middle of the empty, blindly lit dancefloor, watching the janitors sweep away the trash. Somehow we found our way into the back of a cab. As usual, the cab driver was bantering in some other language over the radio. To the paranoid idiots that we were, this meant he was “on to us” and that he was taking us straight to the police station. We really believed that, too. I don’t know who out of the three of us actually had enough sense to tell him we were going to Penn Station, but somehow we made it. Little did we know that making it there was the least of our problems.You must consider this – we each took a double-dipped hit of acid, Deena took two, which meant that we were peaking in Penn Station. We were tripping so hard that we couldn’t comprehend the signs or schedules that would tell us which train we needed to get home. We tried waiting in line, but that definitely didn’t work. We were 100 percent unable to communicate with strangers. So, what did we do? We walked around Penn Station for four hours, completely lost. That whole stripper ordeal happened towards the end of our stay at Penn Station. Just when I was about to issue a second round of insults to the apathetic police officers, Jessie ran up to me screaming. “Guess what? Guess what? Kim’s here!”“What? No way.” It didn’t register in my mind. Kim was one of our best friends from school. She hadn’t gone with us that night because she had already made plans with people in her dorm. Kim was the best. We loved her. So anyway, I turn to where Jessie is pointing. Low and behold, I see Kim in all her strawberry blond combat-boot-wearing glory stomping towards us. “Janna!!! What do you have around your neck, darling?” Kim pulled me into an embrace.“We’re saved! We’re saved!” I chanted over and over again.“Better question, since when do you wear leather pimp coats?”I didn’t have an answer for her. In fact, I didn’t talk much until we got back to school. The train ride home was the longest commute of my life. It felt like a lifetime. Once we were finally safe back at campus, it was about 7 in the morning and, needless to say, we were all wide-awake and still tripping our faces off. We decided to prank people, let them in on our condition. Again, not smart. We danced around the room a little. I decided I wanted to try on Deena’s new boots that she bought with me the previous afternoon. Deena wears a size 5 shoe. I wear a 7 ½. So, this obviously didn’t make much sense. I managed to wedge my left foot into her tiny little boot and found myself in such excruciating pain that I quickly tried to pull the boot off. Yep, you guessed it; the boot was severely stuck. Deena tried pulling it off; Jessie tried pulling it off. No dice. I decided to ignore the pain so we could leave the room which appeared to have lost its walls in a severe nuclear meltdown and visit some of our friends in another building who were more than willing to entertain three tripping freshmen girls. It was already about 8 AM. So, I put a sneaker on my right foot and hobbled around with my left foot jammed in the cowboy boot. I wobbled across campus with my cowboy boot peg leg. My luck, the three of us run into one of my nerdy Communications 101 study buddies. We exchange polite hellos when I notice Jessie staring in disgust at my study buddy’s face. She starts pointing at her face and screaming, “Oh my god! Her face is covered in spiders!” I grabbed Jessie’s arm, wobbling away towards our friend’s room. I think I’m going to stop with this night. Enough already. You guys get the gist, right? The way it ended – Jessie couldn’t stop dancing till about 10:30 that night. I eventually got the boot off, and all three of us had backaches and ringing in our ears for a week. That’s it – my only acid experience – enough material to give me a good story, not enough to make me ever want to do it again. You want to talk ecstasy tales? There aren’t enough pages in this magazine. I’m tired anyway. Goodnight. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
gonzojournilist Posted August 31 Author Report Share Posted August 31 jannab324cool storyhere's something I wrote 2 years agoit's not acid but just as crazy and I actually took time with this and it is not a list http://hometown.aol.com/highfrmses/ ------------------When the going gets weirdthe weird turns pro... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tranza Posted August 31 Report Share Posted August 31 Dont really have a good acid story, but I have a "Special" story I wouldnt mind sharing.. The first time I ever did K, was the first time I ever went to Tunnel, some years back.. I was on e and I really wasnt feeling the K at all.. I did a few bumps, and a few more.. Still, nothing.. So my friend says that the k was weak and he knew where to get good stuff.. So we end up leaving the club, driving back to Yonkers at 4am.. My friend calls some kid up and buys a lick.. He cooked it and scraped it.. A whole lick on the plate.. So thinking I was a pro, I decided I would do half of the lick at once.. My friend thought it would be fun, so we split the lick into 2 lines.. We each sniffed our line, took about three tries to get it all up.. Next thing I knew I was puking all over my friends basement floor.. I had absolutly no clue where I was.. I couldnt see, couldnt talk, couldnt walk.. When I came to, I was back inside the Tunnel?? How did that happen?? To this day, I still have no idea how I ended up back inside the club.. I remember leaving and getting the lick, but I dont remember how I got back inside the club.. Weird shit.. Drugs are bad.. ------------------Twilo Sucks.. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
gonzojournilist Posted August 31 Author Report Share Posted August 31 Originally posted by NaNa:I haven't said anything for 2 hours and all of a sudden I get up and yell out "WOW THAT GUY IS FAT!!" Sat back down and didn't talk for another hour. loljust read your post that was hilariousacid will do shit like that to youI took my one of my RCT's for high school tripping I was out the night B4 @disco2000, tripping off of a tab. I got home at about 5 and knew I had to be in school at 9, tried to sleep but just didn't work. I was fine that morning just tired and restless. My father drove me to school at 8:30, questioning about the time I got home?I just lied and told him 1 o'clock. I know he didn't believe me but who cares he had no more to say after that. We were on winter vacation so I remembered it was cold as fuck out. When my father pulled up to the school, I went straight inside and turned around to check if he drove away. Coast is clear so I went back out to smoke a cigarette (now he knows I smoke...shit I was 17 he would of beaten me to a pulp) while outside my boy Mark pulled up, I walked over to his car and invited myself in. He explains to me how he just took the History regents and it was hard as hell. I didn't give 2 fuks about that and explained to him how phat disco2000 was last night. As I was doing this he rolled up a blunt and sparked it. At first I resisted, but I needed something to relax me, I was up for the past 25, 26 hours, plus I ace tests while high on weed, it makes me concentrate more. (really during the years of 91 to 94 it werked) So I smoked and got to the room where the test was being held just in time. Everything seemed normal I was just on a normal high. The teacher was explaining the breaks during the test, your time limits, essays and all. I comprehended everything perfectly fine. 10 minutes into the test I break my no.2 pencil, as the pencil broke it sounded like a brick was just hurled at the black board *BANG* so loud that I did a little jump sort of like an E shiver. Sat there clueless for the next 5 minutes doing nothing but thinking about the pencil breaking. Finally went into my bag but I could not find a pencil, I tried to be discrete on looking for this pencil but,I thought every movement was so loud, it seemed as if I was the center of attraction for the whole classroom. Finally found the fucking thing, what seemed like 10 minutes looking through this bag could of been seconds was the exact thought that went through my head. Ended up sitting there for another couple of minutes just thinking about that! Tried to clear all bad thoughts from my head, explaining to myself that I am just high from pot and I stopped tripping out hours ago. As I started into the test again, only thing I could really remember, the only thing that will stick in my head till the day I die, is that I filled in D on a grid for an answer then looked at a second time and A was filled in. After that I was convinced I was sideways on acid again. Could not take it any more (when the going gets weird the weird turns pro, only in certain situations and this was not one of them) So I started to fill in any grid not even turning the pages of the test to sort of fake it, just filling answers in. This girl sitting across from me, just me gave a look of confusion, while I was doing this. I looked over and said, "don't try and cheat from me" and started to laugh silently to myself like an evil villan. By this time I was done with my grid art. I got up and handed the test in looked at my watch and realized that only 15 minutes has gone by since the test started. The teacher's response after I handed her the test was,"done already?"nodded my head up and down, shrugged my shoulders and said in a calm and collected way,"yeah not a problem"she responds now with,"what about the essays"by this time I was half way out the door, I turn around and say,"I did really good on the test itself, that should make up for it" and just left the building quickly as possible------------------When the going gets weirdthe weird turns pro... [This message has been edited by gonzojournilist (edited 08-31-2000).] Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sirdante Posted August 31 Report Share Posted August 31 one summer night im standing outside of my friends house as the sun sets. its twilight and we talk about all sorts of meaningless, yet fun, shit. im barefoot and rocking back and forth on my tippy toes. im talking. im rocking. theres something under my toes. my drug-addled brain doesnt register, so i keep rocking. the something is squishy and small, so im rocking and talking and squishing. rocking. talking. squishing.an hour passes, we've talked alot. im still squishing the thing between my toes. my friends house sits in the dark now as the sun has completely set and his eight cats begin their nocturnal prowl of the neighborhood. there are *eight* cats. im rocking, talking, and *squishing* a small *furry* thing between my toes.acid addled mindeight cats out hunting at nightsquish the furry thing*squish*...uh...*squish*...hmm...[feels like a small furry creature]*squish*...eight cats + small furry creature + *squish* = ? *squish*brain to body: "Look down!"body to brain: "Dead rodent!"brain and body simultaneously: "Eek!" sad but true.------------------i love music! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dollabill25 Posted August 31 Report Share Posted August 31 Ok ppl here goesIt was Saturday night February 4th 1995 I remember the day cause my sisters bday is on the 5th and I never made it home for her bday. I had gotten to Limelight at about 5 in the afternoon and began my usual 15 hour set of blow. At about 6 in the morning several friends and myself wind up at Future afterhours at 555 w33rd those of you that remember. Anyway while at the club I'm sitting in a corner doing blow and this kid sits down next to me and starts talking to me so I didn't think anything of it. He asks me if I do acid and i'm like yeah so he pulls out a sheet of some white blotter rips off to hits passes them to me and I eat them at the same time he rips off 2 hits for himself and he eats them. A few minutes go by same thing he rips off another 2 hits passes them to me I eat and he eats another 2. Then this motherfucker rips off 5 and passes them to me so I like pretend to eat them I stuffed them in my jacket, he doesn't see me and so rips off 5 hits for himself and eats them. So know I'm on 4 hits and enough blow to kill a 3rd world country. This kid asks me what I'm doing after the club so I tell him I'm hanging out with these girls in Yonkers, it just so happened he knew them too and was also going to their house. So I was like cool. This kid asks me if I'd ride with him to his house before he goes to Yonkers and for some stupid reason I agreed. We take a cab into Jersey and mind you it was February and it was fucking cold and there was snow and shit everywhere. We get to his house it's like 7:30 in the morning , his parents are up they are the epitomy of white trash. They start yelling at him the minute we walk in th e door. Meanwhile I start going into a bad trip because I realize I'm running out of blow. Coke and acid are good together if you have an endless supply of coke otherwise you fucked. Anyway he's in the other room arguing with his folks I'm freaking out, this kid had a lamp and at the base of the lamp where sea shells but I start to see worms wiggling around and I start freaking out. So to get back at this kid for fucking me up like this I steel his pager from his room and his gameboy tapes. He comes in the room telling me his folks won't give him money so where going to his friends house up the street. So begins the trek through the snow while in the worst trip of my life. We get to his friends house and it's a fuckin roach motel. It's fuckin nasty and disgusting and all you know how dirty we feel on acid to begin with. This kid winds up calling his cousin who eventually comes picks us up and takes us to the path train. It took the pathtrain an hour + to come by that Sunday morning ,were finally on the path train and like a moron I am listen to this motherfucker when he says it's time to get off and we wind up getting off one step before Manhattan don't ask me how I thought I was dying. So here I am waiting for this pathtrain again in a cold ass station in a bad trip fiending for blow I'm all shaking and twitchy it sucked. The whole time this kid cannot shut the fuck up he was the most annoying person, I wanted to throw him in front of the train so bad as it passed but that meant a longer wait. An hour + passes again and the train gets there we finally get into grand central station and take a cab to get to yonkers. The whole time I knew I needed to get to Yonkers or I was going to kill this kid. We finally get to Yonkers where I tell my friend Ron what happened and he lays a mountain of K on wrist God Bless him it helped me out so much. As I'm sitting on the floor coming down trying to relax this kid is wiggging out so happens he had eaten something like 30 hits of acid that night. Seeing how bad and fucked up he was I took it upon myself while he was wigging out to tell him what a piece of shit he was and that I hoped he would die. He was trippin so bad. On the ride over this kid was so pathetic he proceeded to tell me Kenny Ken would not let him into limelight and so he slipped Kenny $100, what a fucking loser. Anyway that's my story people. All you English majors back off. I know there are alot of runons and it's just one big paragraph and not nerely enough commas but fuck it who cares. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
divalicious Posted August 31 Report Share Posted August 31 I was tripping HARD for the first and only time a few years ago, and having a conversation with someone - who it was, I don't know. The person was telling me that I could live the day over and over, staying young! I was all, "yeah?!" The person says, "yeah!" I say, "But I don't want to be in school any more." So the person says, "So you'll finish school, then you can do it." I'm like, "yeah?!!", the person's like, "yeah!" I say, "But I don't want to live at home any more." The person says, "So you'll move out, then you can do it!" I'm like, "yeah?!!!" This conversation lasted for a long time with me going back and forth with all the things I want my life to be before I start this repeating day thing. My friends, who were also tripping, were kind of afraid of me, because the conversation they heard was not a happy sounding one. They thought I was having an f-ed up conversation about G*d knows what.OH, and also, I thought up some great idea having to do with computers (that's what I was majoring in at the time) that would make me rich, if only I could remember what it was... Anyway, no more psychodelic drugs for me...my mind is far out there enough!------------------ Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
gonzojournilist Posted August 31 Author Report Share Posted August 31 hard to belive no one else has stories?------------------When the going gets weirdthe weird turns pro... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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