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Self-Banishment on New Year's Eve (1 Viewer)

It was hard to speak, and if I had put the effort into trying, I might’ve started a never-ending string of conversations fueled by acid and boredom. No one else seemed to mind that we were spending the last hours of 2006 in silence with the exception of The Doors blaring from the stereo. Brad’s eyes were darting back and forth, up and down, rapidly like they were held in with tight rubber bands. Justin’s New Year’s Eve party started around nine, and around ten-thirty or eleven some of us were eating squares of blotter off of a ten strip, picking away the image of a punk rock mosh pit. Then, for no good reason, the emo’s and the freaks showed up, with tabs of ecstasy and tidings of terrible music and redundant conversation. Brad and I couldn’t take this scene, and with our acid kicking in, the time had come for environmental change. We grabbed Brad’s brother from the middle of the room, and he couldn’t have looked more relieved to be dragged away from their weirdness. But what was there to do?
“We need to roll a joint, man,” Brad said, looking as frustrated as his tone, “When these guys start rolling, we’re really going to be on separate dimensions.” I couldn’t have worded it better, at the time and mental state, and I already had a backup plan. I led them through the dark hallway to an unoccupied bedroom, completely free of their noise and their deviant, ecstasy fueled antics. Some of them were mixing acid and ecstasy, but they embraced the ecstasy more than the acid, which became nothing more than background noise to them.
Meanwhile, in the Empty Bedroom, I was rolling a joint and trying damn hard not to fuck it up. The acid kept swimming over me, catching me off my guard every time and dramatically intensifying the hallucinations. We listened to music for about forty-five minutes and smoked some grass, keeping busy with idle conversation which, when influenced by acid, explodes into a supernova of brainstorms and non-stop topic changes. A thinking man’s drug. After The Doors got to the end of “The End” and our joints were reduced to smoldering roaches on the dresser, we decided to try and rejoin the party since we had regained some form of social coherence. Before we headed out I set my last half of a blotter on the back of my tongue, and Brad did the same with his. I knew I couldn’t really trip harder than this, Thank Christ, by taking my last dose, but it definitely spread it out for a stretch of hours afterward. We all got up at once, each of us blatantly more anxious than convinced that this was a good idea. We reentered the dark hallway, and the first thing I noticed was the uncharacteristic quiet you wouldn’t associate with any party. The faint sound of music was playing, I knew that for a fact, but what the holy hell? I opened the door to Mac’s room, and knew that was where the emo’s were tweaking on X, but the room was pitch black. The techno was louder now, and I could sense people staring up at our silhouettes from the floor. I flicked on the light, and their groans and bellyaching made me angry. I yelled, “HANG ON A SECOND, YOU WHINERS, MY DRINK IS STILL IN HERE!” I grabbed my drink, and left them, with the light on, and we decided it was best to accept defeat and retreat back to the Empty Bedroom. As we walked down the hall, which moved and expanded, keeping me as close to the wall as possible. I had my hand around the doorknob when two or three people ran up the stairs. It was hard to tell which group they belonged to in the dark, but they called down the hall way towards Mac and Justin’s rooms, loudly proclaiming, “WE FOUND IT! WE’RE ABOUT TO PLAY IT!”

I can’t describe the confusion that swept over me. It was definitely enough to keep me from reentering the Empty Bedroom, where I knew exactly what was waiting for us. The sounds of doors opening followed, and everyone from the party poured out of the dark rooms, now brightly illuminated by black-lights. Brad, Jake and I quickly followed the messengers downstairs, out of fear of being trampled by the twisted mob. We were led, at the head of the mob, through the living room, and we were suddenly staring at a computer screen, which was emanating blue, pulsating auras. Justin’s mother was at the keyboard, and everyone around me was muttering in bemused, curious tones. Justin’s mother hit one key, and a video screen opened. Saddam Hussein was standing at the gallows, surrounded by masked Iraqi executioners and citizens there to watch him drop. By the time I came to terms with the fact that I was actually seeing what I was seeing, the trapdoor opened and Saddam’s neck snapped like a cracker, sending the mob behind me into cheers and jeers of satisfaction. It was pleasing to the American eye, and despite the fact that Bush was the one to bring him down, I appreciated the big picture. However, that was in hindsight. The sight of a man’s neck snapping in a ninety-five degree angle surrounded by men in black death masks was a dark sight I could’ve done without. Without thinking, I fought through the mob to the open space in front of the television. The ball was dropping in Times Square and people where screaming and throwing confetti through the air. The irony was unbearably strong and I decided it would be best if Brad, Jake, and I went back to the Empty Bedroom for another joint or two.
Once we got there, we resumed our twisted versions of idle conversation and settled in for what we figured was going to be the rest of the night. That led to twenty-minute brainstorm about possible destinations. Brad just wanted to wander out into the night; get into the Mazda and go from there, but I wouldn‘t leave unless I knew where I was going. Downtown was a decent location, public and lively, and more than likely littered with drunks. Blending into that crowd would’ve been easier than pulling a hair trigger, but we decided not to leave at the last second. Time seemed to be taking it easy tonight, seeing as how the span between midnight and one in the morning felt like six hours. We decided to hold off our departure for another hour or so. Things turned ugly about forty minutes later. It blindsided all of us, and the mental energy put in to relaxing manifested into a paranoid escape plan.

Stay tuned for part II,
“Angry Vibes and Crazy Neighbors…
Escape from the Empty Bedroom…”
This is a true story, every word...
Please keep an open mind, and those familiar with Gonzo Journalism will accept what I have to say. I am not recreating the works of the good doctor Thompson, I am a Gonzo writer. Don't forget to look for part two.


Senior Member
That was crazy. I liked it. The only thing I'd like to see is maybe more of what the drugs' effects were, if you can recall. I've never taken acid, and I'd like to read more of a description of how it makes you feel.

The beginning seemed a bit rushed to me. I'm not sure why; maybe it's because you started when the acid was already kicking in. Personally, I would have started with taking the acid. I don't know; it's your choice.

All in all, a nice piece.