Among the smells of poop seeping into the ground from the Port-a-Pottys, there are pockets of ganja smell at Lollapalooza. Although I’m usually sober when I go, it’s hard not to indulge when almost no one is. People are usually drunk, high on some substance, or lame. I’ve been lame more than I care to admit.
A few years ago, only one of my high school friends was able to go to Lollapalooza that summer. Out of the group, she was the most straight-laced one. She never smoked, never drank, and sometimes judged people who did.
So we were in the middle of a smallish crowd for The Givers and this behemoth next to me lights up and passes the blunt to me. Hey! Free DRUGS! my mind shouts gleefully as I inhale once, then twice. I felt like it was impolite to take more of this free offering so I passed it back regretfully, knowing that nothing would happen out of the two hits I’d taken.
After a few minutes, it felt like I’d turned my vision settings to sepia. And it didn’t feel like it was stopping any time soon. I stood there assessing how I felt for a few minutes before turning to my friend.
“You know… I don’t feel too well…” I hoped it’d be some sort of warning or explanation if anything bad happened. The year before, my friend passed out from having such a serious case of out-of-body.
So I tried withstanding the increasingly blurry and floaty feelings as my brain fried in the hot sun. A thousand thoughts rushed through my head, predominantly the incompetence of my friend. Oh my god… she’s never done anything like this before, she won’t know what to do. She’ll TELL ON ME. What felt like 10 minutes later—my friend later told me it was literally seconds later—I turned to her and said bluntly, “we need to get out of here,” and caught onto the last person in the line that was weaving its way out of the crowd.
As I was weaving and dodging through the crowd of people, I felt REAL proud of myself. Look at how good I’m doing! I’m such a functional drunk. People don’t even KNOW how messed up I am right now. I passed person after person, not once wondering why everyone was shooting me such weird and dirty looks. Finally, after what felt like years, I saw the end of the crowd and a spotlight on this empty spot in the dirt and crashed there, gasping, trying to see clearly as the world spun around me.
That was not what actually happened.
What my friend saw was me at first stumbling around, narrowly avoiding people. Then I stopped even trying to avoid them, shouldering everyone that I passed, walking in the straightest line possible. And finally, shoving them away like I was some sort of linebacker. When I reached the end of the crowd, I collapsed on a girl who then pushed me onto that sacred piece of ground.
With some difficulty, she managed to convince me to move into the shade—probably a good idea—where I lay there like a dead fish as people stood all around us. At one point, I remember thinking that I was in a beautiful forest of legs.
I looked so bad that a group of guys started fanning me. I probably didn’t look that bad because they also started flirting with me. Unfortunately, I have no idea what they look like and was not able to even respond.
I was also not far off in my worries that she wasn’t able to handle this. She didn’t even know I had taken a few hits from the dude beside us and only clued into the fact that something was wrong when I started my linebacking career.
Once she realized that I’d taken hits, she started worrying that I’d become that one guy that ingested laced marijuana and started eating people’s faces off. Again, this friend is weird as hell sometimes. Thankfully, that didn’t happen.
I later passed out in Chipotle booth while we waited for the storm warning to end.
What’s one of your funniest drug/alcohol experiences—recently, from your glory days, whatever!