The Long, Strange TRIP to UCONN Storrs

This trip look place in 1982 and involved several folks including BB’s suite-mate Kermit (later to become Kermit-the-Frog on the Amtrak train trip) and Charlie the Deadhead.  This was another roadtrip involving the friends of BB but not BB himself.

Enough background…Kermit and I wanted to see the Dead in Hartford for two shows.  We had no transportation and there wasn’t an easy way to get there by train so we decided to hitchhike.  Not the greatest idea we ever had, but it worked out.  We took local transportation to the Mass Turnpike exit ramp with our backpacks and my drugs.  We first got picked up by a commuter he drove us like 20 miles and dropped us off on the Pike.

There was another Deadhead standing there on the side of the Pike and we all were hitchhiking.  This old green Oldsmobile picked the three of us up.  The driver looked about 24 and had an army shaved haircut.  His sidekick, we found out was his kid brother, was in his late teens and also had a shaved haircut.  The guy was heading back to his military base and was driving 90 miles per hour when the speed limit was probably on 55. Then, part way through the trip, the kid started taking traffic tickets out of the glove compartment and announced each one as he threw them out the window of the car.  “Driving under the influence”; “Driving without a license”; “Driving 25 miles per hour over the speed limit”; “Parking in a Handicap Space <on a Handicap person>”.  There may have been more.  In 65 minutes we had traveled over 90 miles and he dropped us off at the exit.  We had survived. Kermit looked freaked out.

No drugs had been taken so far except in between the last two hitch hikes.  We smoked a bowl with he other Dead head.  We decided not to smoke with the lunatic as he was a shitty enough driver as it were.

The other Deadhead got a ride first because he was only one person.  A pickup truck with two Deadheads picked us up; this would be our last ride for the day.  They were heading to the show eventually but agreed to drop us off in Storrs, CT, the home of University of Connecticut.  We sat on the truck bead huddled in a blanket.  We gave the H/W hippies a joint to smoke for their kindness.  I tried to light a joint myself but it was too windy.  After an hour or more, they brought us right to the dorm we were staying at.

Charlie the Deadhead grew up in an affluent part of Connecticut.  His Dad was a doctor.  I think his Mom was too-I am sure BB remembers.  He was Jewish but had a weird drug dealer friend who had a poster of Adolf Hitler and WW II memorabilia in his home town.  It always made me uncomfortable (being born Jewish and all) but he never said anything insulting.  I never understood the appeal-it must have been the roses (the drugs).

Charlie was there at the dorm like he said he would be.  He was reasonable tall, skinny and unkempt, and had a beard and a Jew fro.  He always wore a Dead tee shirt.  He quickly took out a joint and we began smoking it with his friends (who I quickly forgot their names as soon as the words left his lips).  I remember “Murph” because I had met him through BB in Fairdale, CT.  We started discussing the logistics of getting to the shows.  We had tickets for that night and the next night-Charlie only went to the Sat. night show so he remained behind but set us up with his and BB’s friends-remember BB?

When the show was over, we caught a ride back to UCONN and Charlie was there.  We talked about the set list, how we were going to get cassette tape copies of the show, and Sat. night plans.  Charlie looked baked and we had not dropped LSD that night.  We eventually settled down and slept on the floor of a dorm room.

I don’t remember much about the next day.  We dropped LSD (from MIT) and went to the show.  But the real fun started when we went back to this condo.  The tenants were Grad student Deadheads who went to the show and were friends of Charlie.  All of us were tripping on something.  This is the interesting part.  There is a dice game named Cosmic WhimpOut*.  There is a similar game called Dice 10,000 or Ziltch**.  In Fairdale, they played Ziltch as opposed to Cosmic Whimpout.  Tonight we played something new.

There was a dartboard (and darts) set up, a table with 6 dice, and a table with Tequila and shooter glasses.  The idea was to throw a dart (which was presumably scored), roll the dice (which was presumably scored), and then do a shot.  There were like 8 of us all tripping ( I mentioned that already) and we were drinking Becks, the beer of Fairdale.  The hosts were very excited because this had never been done like this.  They were moving out of the condo the next day and obviously were not concerned about their cleaning deposit.

We all fell asleep about 4:30 AM and woke up hung over.  I have no idea how we got back to Boston.  We must have gotten a ride from someone at the shows-I don’t know.

Footnotes:

*The five Cosmic Wimpout dice are referred to as “cubes”. Four of the cubes have face values of “two swirls”, “three triangular glyphs”, “four lightning bolts”, “the number 5”, “six stars” and “the number 10” – the fifth cube, often a different colour, has a single “flaming sun” icon in place of the triangular glyphs.^[3] The general rules for the game have evolved since its inception and there have been various minor modifications made to the colors and patterns of the face designs on the cubes.

**The game requires six standard dice and a pencil and paper for scoring. Each player starts out “off the table” with a score of zero. Players collect points during their turn, and either add those points to their cumulative score, or continue rolling with the risk of losing all points accumulated that turn if a scoring combination is not rolled.

The Greatest Acid Party of All Times – I Am Butter

I have a few friends that lived together in a condo; Beth, Ronnie and MB.  They had artistic candles that were influenced by the Grateful Dead.  Bright colors everywhere.  Also shelves will all kinds of bongs; glass, ceramic, and plastic.  They loved smoking pot.  In fact they were customers of mine.  But whenever I came over, I brought pot.

MB and I had a side thing going.  She was pretty, Jewish, cute, easy going, and had nice tits.  I never realized it, but she geniuly loved me.  She had a bisexual weight lifting boyfriend who went to Columbia University and was on the Wrestling team.  And before you cum to any conclusions, I only met him once and we never had sex with MB or each other.  They did however live in my apartment one summer.  The one owned by the Egyptian slum lord.  Yikes!

Not to go off tangent, but I will, I got her pregnant and her boyfriend not only split the bill with me for the abortion, but thanked me for being responsible.  I think he thought it could be his but she had her period in-between the last time they had sex and the pregnancy.  MB was on the pill and I think that she wanted to get pregnant with my child.  Her and LK both wanted to.  But only she actually did.  The nice thing was her tits got even bigger.

It was the day of the great acid party.  Only nice people were invited.  The girls hung up psychodelic mobiles (hanging decorations), baked a triple layer chocolate cake, made a bowl of punch with fruit juice, vodka, and food coloring.  They also bought M&M’s.  If you haven’t figured this out yet, everything was bright colors.  They put all the food and punch on a card table in the living room.  They also bought cute paper plates, cups and plastic silverware.  Colored napkins too.  Guess who brought the MIT clean acid.  You are right!  And it was good! Clean and pure.

Musically, they set up the stereo in the living room.  One of those all in ones with a tape deck, receiver and photo player all in one.  They put together a bunch of Grateful Dead Shows (tapes) and stuck them near the tape deck.  And the show began.
Music constantly and when the music was over…in goes another tape.  I even picked out some of the shows.

So here is how it went…It was getting to be late afternoon.  The party started at 6 PM ‘ish and we ordered pizza, & took the acid.  By 7 PM, people were definitely starting to trip.  Peoples’ eyes were like black pies, and shimmering.  Candles were burning and the room was just light bright enough that people weren’t knocking things over.  People were doing a lot of bong hits and smoking cigarettes.  Every hour, the girls added different color food dye to the punch.  The cake was pulsing and the M&M’s, addicting.

At around midnight, I went into Beth’s room and discover her makeup kit.  And inside her makeup kit was gold and silver glitter.  I brought it out to the living room and started to throw it into the air.  It glistened and seemed like a great idea at the time.  Every one was very excited and dancing around.  More bong hits.

As the night got later, some of the people left and continued their trip at home or elsewhere.  By 1 AM, it was the core group.  Beth passed out on the couch around 2 AM and we put a yellow blanket on her.  I decided to start putting unlit candles that looked like mushrooms, skulls, and flowers.  Somehow we woke Beth up and she, with a bright and cheery face announced that she was butter.  She quickly went back to sleep and I put a sign on her that said “I’m Butter!”

The next morning we woke up around 10, 10:30 AM.  Beth was especially hung over and had no clue when there was a sign on her that said, “I’m Butter”, nor did she care.  I was acid hung over and still electric and left to go back to my apartment to try to sleep.  I don’t remember if I did or didn’t; just that I had to pass the Church of Scientology which was scary, tripping or sober.  It was of the best parties of my life.  I miss those guys.

Warfrats Organization-1

I feel weeks ago, I went to the Cubensis show and met a fellow sober guy who explained Warfrats, a group of sober Deadheads who meet at the breaks of shows and hang.  They have yellow balloons.  Kind of cool.  I just reached out to the local chapter’s facilitator and I have been playing text tag.  Right now, he is it.

I don’t have much more to add yet-but there will be at least part 2.  Maybe many more as I continue my path…

I am not into time man…

CN and I were going to see the Grateful Dead in Nassau one time.  His Dad, a corporate president for a Fortune 500 company, had a meeting in Long Island.  We needed a ride because we were just 15.  Transportation to Nassau from NYC sucked.  Se we had no choice.  (footnote:  we decided NOT to take LSD).

It was the Grateful Dead and Nassau shows were amazing because Jerry <Garcia> did a long space jam after the drums.  It’s a big place, like MSG, and had an erie echo to it.  Bob <Weir> was scratching his pick on the strings and it sounded like someone was moaning in a tunnel.  It made it all fun.  And we were stoned.

Who the fuck new where are seats were?  It was the Grateful Dead.  But we were sitting in the lodge somewhere like half way back.  We were smoking a lot of pot.  CN may have heisted some from his Mom’s.  She was from Harlem you know.  This is a story in of itself.  Another post.

When the show was over, neither of us had a watch (or a cell phone as it was like 1978).  Oh but first CN had to go to the bathroom and take out his contacts.  Why?  He was always taking them out or putting them in.  When he was stoned, his eyes dried out and sometimes he would drop them into the sink or wherever.  I think he did not do it this time-lose them I mean.

So what did we do?  We needed to meet his Dad at a certain place at like 11 PM (the show was scheduled to start at 7:30 PM).  Everything was good.  So we asked someone what time it was and they said like 10:15 PM – the show just ended so CN wanted to buy a shirt and some other crap.  In those days, it was customary to wear the concert shirt from the night before to public school-on Monday if it were a weekend show.  Like a badge of honor.  A conversation piece.  At least it was with us.  And CN wanted to look at like every shirt.

At what seemed to be 30 minutes later, we asked another guy what time it was and he said like 10:45 PM so we new we needed to head over to the meeting place.  And we did.  When we go there though, his Dad, dressed in a suit, was standing there.  He did not look like a deadhead, stoned, or like Jerry Garcia.  He looked like an executive (the president) who just found out that the VP told the press that the president needed to “mellow out”!  This was not a good thing and we were stoned.

He asked in a stern voice where we were and CN said cheerfully that we were looking for shirts and it was about 11 PM.  He showed us his $2000 watch – it said more like 11:45 (or maybe 12:15 AM).  Definitely NOT 11 PM!  I could see that from both his face and the face on the watch.

“CN, you were supposed to be here at 11 PM what happened?”  I think CN said something like, “Dad, we asked two different people for the time and one said 10:15 and the other, about a half hour later, said it was like 10:45.  We asked two people!  How was I supposed to know…”

His respond in a sarcastic, stoned hippy voice, “I am not into time man.”  I think he repeated that more than once on our way home.  I slept and snored.  We, CN and I, laughed about it for many days.  I think even his Mom laughed when his Dad wasn’t around-I don’t remember.

The Summer of Hash – The Vatican

(THIS IS NOT A CONFESSION-I AM NOT CATHOLIC-I WILL NOT APPROVE ANY BASHING COMMENTS-DEAL WITH IT)

I am not Catholic-I am an Atheist.  I don’t think the Pope has a magic phone to God.  None of this.  But since my friend is Christian, I will refer to him as simply **.

** and I were in Italy.  We decided to go see the  Sistine Chapel in the Vatican.  Pope John wasn’t scheduled to perform to the next day.  So ** and I had a walkman (a portable tape player) with two headphone jacks.  We are in the  Sistine Chapel looking at the artwork and gold (maybe stolen from the Jews during the Holocaust), listening to the the song “Dark Star” (Grateful Dead) blaring.  We were stoned on hash.  The guards were not pleased and made us turn it off.  So we wanted to find somewhere to listen to Dark Star.

We climbed a round stair case and found ourselves high above where the Pope would be speaking the next day.  We were closer to the Sistine Chapel ceiling than any of the other tourists and Jerry Garcia was doing ripping leads through our headphones.  Here is the part you all need to deal with;  yes, we took out our pipe and smoke HASH, blowing the hits down towards were the Pope would be.  I said it and I was not struck down-this is why I am an Atheist.  I smoked Hash in the Lord’s house and nothing happened except I heard wailing music and got very stoned.

This happened over 20 years ago and I am neither in Italy nor the Vatican so puff-puff.  Deal with it.

The Great Acid Trip in New England

It was 3PM in my small home town in upstate NY.  The three of us, CN, the Bird, and me, were planning our acid trip for that night.  We were doing it on a budget and already had the acid.  First thing was going to the local Beer Distributor and getting 2 cases of beer for under $10.  I looked at the price list and saw bergheim beer.  It was $3.75 a case!  I asked if it was beer and the clerk said he guessed so-I bought it.  CN had a condo.  It was a small New England Town on the Long Island Sound.  It was not too cold out.  We had dinner and dropped acid around 7, 7:30 PM.

(footnote: I can only remember the highlights, truthfully, so forgive me if it is a little choppy.)  We left the condo when we were past the “electric” phase and starting to trip.  I will need to skip forward to when the Bird wanted Marlborough cigarettes and I was into Newport’s (my friend Chung got me started in freshman year of college).  It must have been the summer after freshman year.  We went into a local diner the size of a doublewide coach.  It look liked it was an Airstream, a brand of luxury recreational vehicle that is shinny silver.  (footnote:  my wife wants to travel around the west coast in an RV-I think it is a crazy idea because I think RV; I think trailer parks, etc.  Also $4 per 4 miles).  It looking like an Airstream could have been the acid.  But it was a small diner for sure.

The bird wanted cigarettes and we only had enough quarters for 1 pack.  CN, the Bird and I were in the diner with eyes the size of pies.  The 4 customers and an employee were already staring at us.  We stuck out to say the least.  Quarter after quarter clicked until I heard the sound that the machine was ready to barf up the cigarettes; all one needed to do is pull the lever.  So I did!!!!  I choose Newport’s of course.

The Bird flipped out and yelled something about my choice of cigarettes and ran out followed by CN and me.  We were all screaming by this point.  The bird jumped up and grabbed a small tree branch and pulled his back.  We stopped and I smoked. CN was too smart for cigarettes and we had some pot anyway.  We had also brought 2 six-packs of the beer (the other beer was in the condo staying cold).  So were are out in the middle of a small park with two six packs, me smoking a Newport, and the Bird laying on the ground with back pain.

The Bird’s face lit up.  He claimed that the injury happened because the Tree Attacked him.  I could live with that.  We all laughed about it and then the beer game started.  I am sure you are thinking quarters or some other beer game or contest.  Not so fast Jackson.

Yes, we were drinking beers.  But we started taking uncapped beer bottles and gently throwing them at each other.  We wasted at least 6 of them.  It seemed funny, and after all, they were just Bergheims.  We were in full trip mode and one of us (not me) stole a street sign and we brought the loot back to the condo as proof we were out that night.  We drank more beer and listened to the Grateful Dead.  It was 4:30 AM and CN was tired and needed to take his contacts out, which was a big process.
The Bird and I grabbed the fishing gear and went down to the docks to catch breakfast.  We knew CN would sleep to like 2 PM as he is a big “Ga-Schloof” which in Germany, CN told me it meant to go to sleep in German.  It is not even close.

The Bird and I did not catch any fish and by 6:30 AM the sun was up and we were beat; so we went back to the condo, finished the beer and went to bed.  We woke up and CN was STILL ALSEEP; so as the good friends that we were, we woke him up.  He was very cranky.

When we saw the street sign, the Newport’s, and the empty cases, we new that these things really happened.  And they did.

Jerry Garcia in Palo Alto in 1983

DG and I cruised down from Santa Cruz to catch Jerry Garcia (my God died in ’95!) in Palo Alto.  We had one ticket.  DG went in and got his hand stamped-it was a bar.  He rolled his hand on my sweaty back of hand and it reproduced the stamp and we went in.  At one point, we were sitting under the front of the stage and Jerry was right on top of us playing.  I had rolled a LARGE joint of Santa Cruz outdoor.  We were smoking up a storm.  I don’t remember but I think there was no smoking allowed.

The smoke was going out and up and hitting Garcia in the face.  A young security guard caught us and said we either give him the pot or leave.  I took a long slow toke and blew it into his face.  DG was laughing (and we were stoned).  I handed him the joint and he walked away-The fucker smoked it with a deadhead chick, still in our sight.  And yes, he was a real security guard.

 

LSD and the Amtrak Train

It was 1981, winter break, and I was planning to take the train home with Kermit the Frog, my best friend BB’s roommate.  Sometimes it seemed that I had more adventures with BB’s friends…because in many cases it was true.  

Some background on the preplanning.  My friend Rus was responsible for LSD distribution through the late 60’s through my college years.  He was at least 12 years older-maybe more.  He had a scraggly beard and a museum of LSD including Blue Dolphins and Sunshine Daydream.  Thank Science he dod not make the stuff.  It was made by some MIT graduate students.  It was VERY CLEAN and on white blotter paper.  I was buying it for $90./sheet and selling them for $3/hit, two for five.  I also had some high school students come to the dorm and buy sheets for like $130/sheet.  After they put a security guard in my dorm, the kids would clim through the first floor windows to get in.  This was NOT the brightest thing that I ever did.

The Frog and I decided to drop acid before we took the Amtrak.  We had a lot of bags including our acoustic guitars.  The train was packed with college kids and there were no seats.  I had made a bong out of a hair shampoo bottle and it had a metal bowl.  It worked real well and I had almost got rid of the soapy taste; almost.

Here is how I remember the “trip”.  Seriously.  We were sitting with all of our bags stacked up in the area between the inner train doors and seats; the space that was supposed to be kept clear.  To the left of us was the bar car; to the right, all of the seats of the car we were in.  By the time we pulled into Rhode Island, we were pretty much tripping.  We decided to start doing bong hits and took out the guitars.  The conductor who was as old as a grad student would come by and take a bong hit.  We started playing Grateful Dead songs and the whole bar car was singing along and swaying to the music.  I’d swear that the bong hit part was accurate, but the singing part is up for discussion.  By the time I arrived at NY, I was normal enough to deal with my family.  Kermit had to continue to Maryland.  He was tripping more than I was.  Remember I had sheets of this stuff in my apartment.

What a trip huh?

 

 

Why I Created This Site

When I stopped smoking pot, I realized there was a person buried under all that weed and wax.  Before you stop reading and switch to another blog, hear me out.  I did it.  Believe me.  I did it.  Of all of the Pot Heads, I was the the last one smoking.  I dealt and keep my friends and strangers high.  I can guarantee that you will find my postings at the very least entertaining.

I can honestly say that I won’t post everything and I could never run for president.  I won’t tell you much about myself other than I am middle aged now, still love the dead, haven’t smoke in over 80 days, having had a drink in over 8 years and make the same decision everyday-not to smoke or drink.  It has been easy.

When I quit pot, I started remembering my dreams.  So what did I do?  I started emailing them to people who were in my dreams.  My brother told me that I should write a journal, so in fact, this is my journal.  The stories, for better or worse, are all true although names and certain other things have been changed to protect everyone.

So enjoy…take a puff or a Dab, pour yourself a nice glass of tequila, and start reading.  If you are a member of the Wharf Rats who are a group of concert-goers who have chosen to live drug and alcohol free, welcome. I  will look forward to your comments.  I’ll not only read them, but I will remember them too.

Wishful Drinking at Age 13

I am not sure this was the first time I drank; but let’s start here.  It was the 70’s and I was at my cousin’s Bar Mitzvah party.  His brother will later be a major influence in my life as a Grateful Dead Head but I’ll write about that later.  My cousin (the 13 year old) had a party on one floor; the adults were down stairs and the older brother, John the Deadhead, was on the second floor patio with his friends, a keg, and I am sure pot although they at least hid that.  But the keg was PBR and I kept my glass full.  I had about three beers and was DRUNK.  I was around 125 lbs back then, maybe even a little less.  This was the first of many drinking experiences.  I must have liked it because I drank for the next 40 years!!!!