dirkdiggler9969
New member
I wrote an account from back in the day of one of the craziest times that I ever did X. I'm gonna post it here for you guys because I think you bros will appreciate it. I have another crazy story from the same time that is a little shorter but this one is just so fucking crazy it blows the movie "Go" out of the water and it's actually real. Warning: Its about 10 pages...
Pink Flies
It was a humid night in June of 2001 and 2 kids had a whole night already planned from start to finish. The first stop began at local CVS Pharmacy with the purchase of 2 Vicks Inhalers and a bottle of Pepto Bismol. Nick and I had planned out nights like this several times and this was just another night to us. Unfortunately for us, this Saturday was going to go down a little different than all the weekends prior. This night, just like many others that summer, involved the 3 best friends ever in Brevard County: Nick, myself and our good friend Ecstasy.
Nick and I were experienced ravers. We knew all the “up’s-and-down’s” to eating beans. We always drank tons of water, had a pair of Vicks Inhalers, glow sticks, a pile of good CD’s, a club to go to, an after party to go to afterwards; however, this was our first time using Pepto Bismol to coat our stomachs. We had been told that this would make our roll last longer. In retrospect, this was probably the worst time to prove that theory accurate..
On this night we had arranged to meet up with one of our boys to get a couple pills each, just like we had done a dozen weekends before that summer. At around 9:00 pm we met up and drove to an apartment complex in Rockledge and met up with some friends who we tolerated because they had turntables, girls and most importantly… beans. These “friends” were a couple in their late twenties who were pretty lame, but really nice people. They always had random people over. Most of the people that gathered there were like us and by like us I mean, “people that would never hang out there, but just stopped by to grab some beans” and then make their way out on the town that night. When we stopped by this night, the only people that were there were us, the couple that lived there, a DJ that was always spinning records there and the man that would hand us 5 pills that would change our perspective on rolling and turn an ordinary kick-ass night into a famous story among our friends. Only a few people have heard this story in its entirety from Nick or myself due to its many layers of craziness and pure length to tell it right.
So we met up with this guy who will remain nameless. We’ll call him “Dead-Man John”. Dead-Man John was late as usual and we hated hanging out at this apartment without being on Ecstasy because… well basically the apartment sucked and so did the people who lived there. When John arrived he produced the beans which were called “Pink Flies.” Now for those of you who have never tripped on ecstasy (a.k.a. “Rolling”), Ecstasy, commonly called “beans” on the street, are almost always “stamped” with a symbol. It’s usually a mainstream logo like the Motorola symbol, The Stay Puff Marshmallow Man, and so on. These were pink in color and had a giant fly inscribed onto them. They were also “double stacks” which meant that they were twice as thick as normal beans. We gladly accepted the 5 pills without complaint; however, we were probably the most responsible ravers in Brevard County and receiving 5 pills that we had never heard of made us both pretty nervous. You see, we had several guys that we got beans from and we always picked them up ahead of time. After we would set up a meeting, we would go on a website called DanceSafe.com. This was a site that was so popular during this time that it often crashed. It was a site that had pictures of pills and told what all the ingredients were after being chemically-tested and even the geography of where they were being sold. So, we would call our pusher, ask what kind he had on hand and then check the website to confirm if they were legit or adulterated (i.e. speed). We hadn’t seen or heard of these “Pink Flies” before.
It was about 10:00 pm now and we had our 5 beans and were on our way to the club. Nick and I had several things that we did the same every time we rolled. One was to take our first bean about 15 minutes before we got to the club. The place where we got the beans this time was exactly 15 minutes away. We also always took them the same way. We chewed the first one and the moment we felt it start to work, we would swallow the second one. For those of you who have never chewed up a bean I would have to describe its taste as Aspirin mixed with ashes. It tastes terrible; however, it works a lot faster this way. After we chewed the first pill, it tasted totally foreign—even more so than “Aspirin and Ashes.” The Pink Flies tasted like pure battery acid.
It’s now 10:20 pm or so and we have now reached Storm Club in Cocoa Beach. Storm Club was one of the hottest places on the planet at that time and we could be seen melting into one of the couches in “the chill room” more times than I could count. Those of you who have only been there in the last couple of years would never believe that it was the best rave club around not named “Cyberzone” (an Epic rolling club in Orlando), but it was fucking ridiculous then. I once saw Dj Baby Anne perform there and it was so packed that the temperature from the body-heat set off the fire sprinklers. True story.
Nick had this “tradition.” Every time that he rolled, he HAD to take a shit right before we arrived at the club. When we went to Storm Club, this was always done at the Denny’s restaurant across the street. As we exited the car, we both realized that we were extremely fucked up. I put another pill in my mouth and took a swig of Zephyr Hills, Nick took the last two Pink Flies that remained in his possession. As we walked around Denny’s from the back lot to the front and walked through foliage to get there. We stumbled through the entranced decked out in our rave attire (Me: My baggy khaki’s and navy blue Adidas shirt and Nick in his baggy jeans, yellow Adidas nylon shirt and white Adidas visor.) *Side note* This shirt that Nick had on was the ugliest fucking shirt I have ever seen. I could literally spot him in a club full of 500 people because it was black light-responsive and illuminated in the club like a giant glow stick. Everyone hated it and if you ask him for a picture of it, he can send you one from back in the day… fucking terrible shirt!
The hostess looked at us funny. It’s not like we were the first fucked up people at Denny’s ever, it’s just that we were already grinding our teeth had huge pupils and we didn’t want a seat. The dialogue that transpired went something like this.
Denny’s Lady: “Ya’ll want a table?”
Mangled Nick: “Bathroom.”
Denny’s Lady: “It’s over there. Where do you guys wanna sit?”
Mangled Nick: “I just need to shit.”
Me: “He just needs to shit. Can I have a water to go?”
Denny’s Lady: Jesus Christ. *Goes to get me water*
She hands me the water and I take a huge sip out of it and look at her as if she had poisoned me.
Denny’s Lady: “What’s wrong?”
Me: “What the fuck is this, hot milk?”
Denny’s Lady: “What? It’s ice water.”
I then opened the top of the Styrofoam cup and looked into it for what seemed like 2 minutes. “Oh, Thanks,” I said. I then speed walked into the bathroom.
Tripping Me: “Nick!”
Shitting Nick: “What?”
Tripping Me: “Dude, I tripping balls!”
Shitting Nick: “What’s wrong?”
Tripping Me: “I just took a sip of this ice water and it tastes like warm milk.”
Shitting Nick: “That’s fucking weird. I feel funny, too. This shit feels really good and that creeps me out.”
Some guy then walks in and looks at me like I’m a fucking weirdo. It might have been because I was squatting down in front of the urinal, looking in to my open Styrofoam cup, while facing the occupied stall and talking to the dude taking a shit.
Nick finally finishes his pre-club ritual and we walked to Storm Club. As we began walking, Nick made a yelp like a puppy who had his tail stepped on and started clawing at his neck. He said he felt a spider crawling on him and I said that he must be tripping. As it turns out he really did have a big spider on his back because the trail blazing we did to get to Denny’s in the first place. After waiting in a long ass line, we finally made it inside the club. Yup that’s right, you didn’t read that wrong. Storm Club used to have a line around the building! Once we got inside I immediately felt fucking amazing. The music was so loud and the place was packed. There was a live act called “Prophecy” performing that that night. They only had one hit on radio, it believe it was called “Supersonic Psyche.” The particular song was pretty lame, but most of their music was different from the Dj Sharaz, Dj Icey and other Florida breakbeats that were customarily listened to in that era. All of that aside, they were amazing live.
Storm club was packed with everyone from all walks of life. From your typical ravers to dudes wearing collared shirts and cords. Nick and I would usually split up the minute we entered the club when we were rolling. Tonight was no different, at least, not yet…
Usually, when I rolled I was either: very happy and active (dancing, talking, moving a lot) or I was a spineless ball of Jell-O who was sunken into a couch somewhere in a corner looking mangled (having the time of my life though I might add). This time was a mix of being very happy, mixed with a good bit of disorientation. I remember running into old friends and chatting up a bunch of complete strangers and telling them how nice it was to meet them and telling them to have a great night. This part of the night is still very blurry to me and it was about 2 hours before Prophecy went on. I know that I never saw Nick once and when I met up with him later, he told me that he hadn’t left the dance floor once. He was covered in sweat and told me that he was dancing so fast that he kept seeing the bottom of his shoes. He said it felt like his legs were made out of rubber and that everyone was just standing around watching him “go” And that people said he was dancing amazing, doing moves they hadn’t seen him do before.
We’ll get to our reunion later. So, after two hours of mingling I meet this dude who tells me that he does the lighting for Prophecy. He tells me that he can get water for free and starts telling me stories about the people in the group. He goes and a bottle of water from the bar and brings me back one, also. I know, I know it already sounds like he’s gay. You’ve got to understand though that when guys are rolling that they act like chicks when it comes to empathy and kindness. With all that aside, this dude was definitely trying to fuck me. Gross. I can remember our conversations now crystal clear and if I wasn’t rolling I would have said, “Get the fuck away from me or I’ll bash you”, the second he said, “Hey, I get free water, do you want me to get you some? I can hook you up all night.” However, I was rolling my ass off and very thirsty. Because rave clubs didn’t sell nearly as much alcohol (Alcohol and Ecstasy have no effect on each other) a bottled water at a rave clubs was 4 dollars each, back then. That’s ridiculous. I used to have to include water into my night out budget. WTF? Anyways, after drinking about 3 waters in 10 minutes, I made my way to the front of the stage.
Prophecy was on stage warming up and plugging equipment in. The entire group, except for the lead singer, that is. The lead singer’s name is Shannon Denise and currently she is the lead for a band named “Pretty Ugly.” If you look her up now you will think she is just average looking with a side of ugly; however, when she performed with Prophecy, she was bigger than life and every raver fan-boy wanted to fuck her.
After about 10 minutes of looking at these geeky douches stand on stage, the guitarists gave someone in the back of the crowd a signal. The lights went out (thanks to the fag with the endless water supply) and a spotlight went to the back of the crowd. The DJ for the band started playing some wilderness sounding trance track and then I saw her.
She was on some big guys shoulders and she had a pair of angel wings on. Not some dumbass K-Mart angel wings, either. This bitch was rocking a 6-foot wing span-. I started “blowing up” and must have had a smile on my face from ear-to-ear. The big guy throws her on stage and she starts dancing like she was possessed and flinging her hair around. She then proceeds to hit this note right off the bat and hold it for what seemed to be 2 weeks. The place went nuts. She then goes into the verses of whatever song she was singing and this is when it hits me like a pile of bricks and I realize that whatever is in my stomach is not Ecstasy. I am tripping. There is a big difference between a high of Ecstasy and a Psychedelic trip.
I start freaking out. I feel like I have an invisible blanket on and start looking around frantically. I just can’t understand why everyone isn’t staring at me. Everyone should be staring at me! You mean to tell me that NO ONE notices that I’m floating above the stage? Just as this is happening, the lead singer stops singing and walks up to the front of the stage. She squats down in front of me, looks at me and holds this note that sounds like a squeal from a dolphin. I am now frozen in time right in front of her and she knows by looking at me that I am tripping. She leans as far forward as she can and makes direct eyes contact with me. I look at her for a couple seconds and then she yells, “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa.” I got so startled I jumped in the air and felt like I had 10 orgasms at once. For the rest of the show I was a mangled mess. I must have looked like I was miserable. I don’t remember much of the show after this except that I was very aware that whatever I had taken had something in it other than Ecstasy. There was definitely ecstasy-like characteristics going on, but a lot of the things that were happening were very out of the norm.
After, the band got done, Nick found me and told me about his rubber legs of madness and told me that we were going to a late-night club called Harmony in Palm Bay in a couple minutes. We discussed how both of us were feeling and decided that it wasn’t normal. We both weren’t worried because we weren’t having a bad trip, but we were experiencing some hallucinations and we both felt very intoxicated. Normally when we were rolling we felt fine to drive or handle any situation. Not tonight. When we got to the car we both decided that we should wait for a while until one of us felt ok to drive. After waiting for a good 45 seconds (give or take 45 seconds or so) Nick decided that he was ok.
We made it about 500 yards and Nick decided that he was way too mangled to make it another foot. He pulled into the gas station where A1A has a fork in the road. Nick got out of the car to pump some gas. I took the water bottle out of the center console and chugged the whole thing down. I immediately opened the passenger door and projectile vomited several feet. Nick leans into the driver side and says, “Oh my God, are you alright?” I picked my head up from under the car and very uncomfortably replied, “That felt fucking amazing.” How disgusting is that? I quickly puked for a second time and made a sound similar to an orgasm afterwards. I sat back in the seat and felt disgusting. This was the first time that I ever felt like I was “on drugs.” By that I meant, I obviously knew that for the past couple of months that we were taking Ecstasy, but I never felt embarrassed or pathetic. We were always around hundreds of our friends who were all fucked up, too and the club scene always involved parties. It was widely accepted then like alcohol is still now. No other drug is based solely around a party. Heroine is usually slammed in a slummy house or in a bathroom. Weed is usually done is a social setting at first, but then it becomes something that people do by themselves. Coke can be introduced in the party scene, but the pure addictiveness of it makes it habitual and eventually it will be done all the time, so we stayed away from this… but now I was taking pleasure in puking. I felt disgusting and after this point in the night everything became sad and terrible to me. I was starting to have what is known as a “bad trip.”
I told Nick that we had to get the fuck out of here and he told me that as soon as he figured out the gas pump we would leave. I put my head back and wait for Nick to tell the counter lady that her pumps are broken. Nick went inside and made his case that the pumps were broken. The people in line and the hag behind the register knew that my friend should be in straight jacket and not behind the wheel of a car. Nick sounded like a dumbass, received instructions on how to properly pump gas, then came back and did so accordingly. Apparently, he had been smashing the yellow 87 octane sticker instead of the actual 3-demensional button that makes the fucking pump work!
We continued on our journey to Harmony and made it to 4th St. South. For those of you familiar with Cocoa Beach, that’s only a couple miles down the road. Nick started freaking out and said that he couldn’t drive anymore, but said that he had heard from some friends of his that they regularly go to the beach while rolling and they love it. Sounded like a good idea to me, so I was in.
We pull into a parking space at the beach and just sit in our car for a couple minutes. After talking about how we were gonna get all the way to Harmony in Palm Bay, we decided that no matter what was going to happen later, we needed to sober up first and the beach sounded good to us. We walked down to the beach and sat in the sand about 20 feet from the surf. I tried to close my eyes and lay down and that was a terrible idea. What happened next would be no big deal now, but at the time I was a little out of my fucking mind. I got bit by a sand flea. One sand flea. Sometimes when you lay on the beach, you get bit by sand fleas. I know this. I have always known this. That night I didn’t know this. I freaked the fuck out. “Shit is fucking biting me Nick!” Nick didn’t make a move and just mumbled “Your fine, you’re just freaking out.” I said, “I know I’m freaking out, but it still feels like shit is biting me.” More sand fleas bit me. “Ahhhhh, it feels like shit is all over me bro.” This was more likely just the sand being stuck to my grimy sweat-covered skin.
Nick then starts talking about what it would be like if this was a deserted island and we found buried treasure. I said, “What the fuck are you talking about?” Nick then pointed down in the sand to a hole that he had begun to dig. “Look”, Nick said in a goblin voice. “Buried Treasure!” I looked down and Nick had buried… and then dug up, a glow stick. He looked at me like a 6 year old that had just handed his father a picture that he drew.
I was not amused. “Wow, we’re fucked up”, I said. Nick was still looking at me for approval on his “discovery.” I got up and walked to the stairs and sat at the bottom with my head in my hands and closed my eyes. Nick soon followed me and sat down next to me. I don’t know how long we sat there but after a little while I heard someone coming down the stairs. I turned around and looked up to see some shady character coming down the stairs. He squeezed past the two of us and said, “Oops, sorry guys.” He said sorry because he thought we were gay. He didn’t say sorry because he was walking past us. He thought he broke up a love session. I immediately said, “No! We’re just fucked up, we’re not queers.” After saying, “Oh,” he then introduced himself and I have no recollection of his name so we’ll call him “Jim.” Jim then walked up the stairs a couple of steps and said, “Me, too. What did you guys take?” Nick told him that we had taken some beans that had turned on us. “What did you take”, Nick asked the dude that we would never normally talk to. “I took two xanax, an oxy, and a couple beers” The conversation went on for a couple minutes. Nick was tripping so hard that his words were morphing together and Nick couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. Nick kept asking him to repeat himself over and over. I later found out that Nick thought he had a thick accent, but he spoke clear as day to me. I can’t remember anything else except for the introduction and what he asked next that would make this story just get worse.
Jim says, “You guys wanna come chill back at my place, its right across the street.” I said, “Dude, you know we’re not gay right.” And he said, “Relax bro, I just meant that you guys could chill for a while and drink some water until you feel good enough to drive home.” Jim then got upset and started walking home by himself and I could care less. Nick on the other hand, realized we were running low on water and thought that if we didn’t keep drinking water… we would DIE! Nick talks me into going with this guy until we drank a couple glasses of water and then we would leave. We get up and start jogging after this guy. His apartment was literally across the street. We walked inside and sat on the couch.
This place was dark and cluttered. It wasn’t necessarily dirty, but you could tell that he was poor and probably had fucked up strangers over to his place often. Now me, being the astute observer that I am, couldn’t help but notice that there was a grown man laying on the ground at the beginning of his hallway in the “police chalk outline position.” I pointed this out to Nick and he said, “He’s not bothering anyone, fuck ‘em.” Jim returns to our couch with a plastic vase full of water. He hands it to Nick who drinks out of it with two hands like a toddler with a sippy-cup. I reach for it and Nick grunts at me, still drinking.
Jim turns on the T.V. and its some old John Wayne western. When the T.V. comes on, Jim’s wife comes out of a room in the back. She comes down the hall and steps over the dude on the floor like he was a sock or something. She asks Jim to come over to her and he gets up and goes into the hall. I can hear everything she is saying, plus there is a mirror that is near the kitchen so I can see them, too. “Who the fuck are these two guys?” He says, “They’re just two guys who need to chill for a while.” I want them to get the fuck out of my house now.” He says, “Ok, ok, I will make them leave in a couple minutes.” She then goes into the room she came out of and slams the fuck out of the door. The dude on the floor is dead I think. Jim comes over to us like we couldn’t hear what she was saying and plops down next to us. I think Jim was more fucked up than us, which is hard to believe.
I start drinking water and watching T.V. I start squinting at the T.V. and can’t believe what I am seeing. Everyone’s face in the movie is melting and I freak out again. Literally at the same time, Nick starts freaking out too. He says that everyone on the screen is made of dripping water and their eyes were all white, they had no pupils. I start describing their acid burned faces. We both start seeing the same things and Nick again decides that we need more water. Jim takes the vase and fills it up again and just as he returns to the couch, his wife comes back out and yells, “Jim get the fuck in here now!” Jim goes to turn around and Nick stops him and demands the vase full of water.
Jim hands Nick the water and then begs him to talk to his wife and get him out of trouble. So, the drooling and tooth grinding Nick gets up, with his eyes-crossed from the psychedelics, he walks into the hallway of death and tries to convince this Jim’s wife that none of us were that fucked up and that Jim only had “two”. Whatever the “two” was--is unknown, but this is what Jim coached Nick to say. Unfortunately for Jim, his coaching was in ear-shot of his wife. Nick walked over to her as she was still standing in the hall way and knowing she must have heard what transpired, Nick said his rehearsed line anyway, with the terrible delivery of someone clearly on large quantities of drugs. She said, “Okay.” in a way only consistent with the way a Psychologist agrees with a patient in a psych ward. Nick had failed miserably.
After being sent out of the room by Jim’s wife, Nick, sensed that we were gonna get the boot soon, and started guzzling the water like a bukkake film star. Jim and his crazy wife exchange about 20 words and then she punches the shit out of him. She hit him like a grown ass man. He fell all the way to the end of the hall and didn’t move for a couple seconds. As he began to get up, Nick knew it was time to bounce. Nick, still clutching the vase with a death grip, jumped up ran for the door. I followed in behind him and took on last look behind me as his wife kicked him while he was down. He fell into the dead guy who didn’t move… because he was dead.
We were halfway across the parking lot when his wife exited the apartment with a hop in her step. “Hey guys, come back for a second, I have to give you something”, she called in her cute girl-scout voice. I turned around and started walking back and was quickly snatched by my collar by Nick. “What the fuck are you doing? Don’t go back there.” I said, “Yeah, why would we go back?” Nick then yelled back, “Um, no thanks. Bye!” As we stood there she revealed a full-sized Aluminum Baseball Bat from behind her back. She screamed back, “GOOD! Because I’ll FUCKING KILL YOU!” as she swings the bat above her head.“Oh fuck,” I yelled as we sprinted across A1A back to the beach.
After taking a breather next to the car for a couple minutes we both decided that it would be a good idea to listen to some trance music to calm down. We usually listened to trance music on our way down from rolling, so we figured it was worth a shot. As we were sitting in the car things just kept getting worse. I kept seeing things and Nick did, too. I don’t remember much from this time period except that I kept telling Nick that I knew that the shadow from the palm tree in front of his car was not a monster, but it sure looked like one. When I say I kept saying that, I mean approximately 20 times.
Me: “Hey Nick, you see that tree, it’s a monster. I mean, I know it’s not really a monster, but it is right now. Ya know what I mean man, it’s a monster, but… it’s not.”
You would think that this would sound weird to Nick, but he looked at the shadow and agreed and added that the ”No Loitering” sign was waving back and forth like it was made out of liquid and that everywhere he looked was “dripping” as if it had been raining. I then became very depressed and kept calling us losers and vowing to kill Dead-Man John for giving us these fucked up beans. (I never got the chance; he OD’d about a week later on Oxy’s. Now you know why we call him “Dead-Man John”) My bad trip continued to get worse as our deep conversation was then interrupted by 3 Cocoa Beach squad cars screeching into the parking lot like we were hiding Osama Bin Laden. Nick, who was sitting in the drivers’ seat, grabbed the keys out of the ignition and threw them up into the center console. 3 cops stormed the car in about half a second and had both doors open immediately. “Get out of the car!” The main cop who was about 5’7” with huge arms and a Boston accent started yelling at Nick.
Boston Cop: “What did you throw, what did you throw!?”
Nick nervously exclaimed, “My keys, it was just my keys.”
Boston Cop: “Yeah right, tell me what it was!”
I on the other hand had some big doofy fucker that looked like Donald Duck holding me against the car and patting me down.
Donald Duck: “Where are the drugs?”
Me: “I don’t have anything.”
Donald Duck: “We’re gonna tear this car apart, so you might as well tell us.”
Me: “I don’t give a shit, it’s not my car.”
Boston Cop: “We’re gonna bring the dog.”
Nick: “Go ahead and bring the dog, You can bring Lassie or bring Rin-TinTin, there’s nothing in the car.”
The two cops that were dealing with us and the other guy who was standing by held a meeting and left me and Nick alone for a minute.
Nick: “God damnit, what the fuck.”
Me: “Oh fuck, they said that they’re gonna bring a dog.”
Nick: “So, we don’t have anything.”
Me: “Dude, the dog’s gonna smell the beans in our stomachs.”
Yup, that’s really what I said. I was that out of my mind that I actually thought that the drug dog would bark at my stomach.
After leaving us to simmer for a couple minutes the cops reconvened at Nick’s vehicle and tore that bitch apart. They pulled off his door panels, popped his trunk and unscrewed his speakers from his box and even pulled up some of his carpet. At one point Ofc. Duck found a sesame seed in the back seat from hamburger and jumped out of the car and walked up to Nick.
Ofc. Duck: “What is this?”
Nick: “I dunno, a sesame seed?”
Ofc. Duck: “It looks like a marijuana seed to me.”
Nick: “It better not be!”…. (Good comeback Nick)
Nick wasn’t a big fan of pot, so the likelihood of that actually being a pot seed was incredibly low. If it had actually been, it would have definitely been a spliff-smoking friend Dwayne’s fault.
After a while of non-sense, Nick’s composure was impeccable. He realized that they really didn’t have anything on us. Nick even put quarters in the parking meters when we first arrived. Nick’s sarcasm began to get thick.
Ofc. Duck then put me up against the car and proceeded to search my ass crack and taint.
Me: “Whoa, what the fuck are you doing?”
Ofc.“Duck: “Do you like that?”
Me: “No.”
Ofc. Duck: “That’s funny because the only dudes that come down here are either doing drugs or fucking.”
Me: “Well we’re not gay.”
Eventually the cops huddle together and the Boston Cop comes back to us, gives Nick the keys to his car and says, “You guys are free to drive home. You can’t stay here because this is a no parking zone.” Nick explained that he had paid the meter, but he exclaimed that we are loitering.
The two other cop cars leave and one stays behind. It’s the Boston Cop. It looks as though he is going to do some paperwork and was not interested in us any longer.
Nick and I quickly jumped into the car and let of a sigh of relief. We were home free!
Me: “I can’t believe they didn’t hook us up for some bullshit.”
Nick: “I know, I thought we were fucked. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
This next part happened in slow motion to me. Nick’s keys came out of his pocket in slow motion and I could hear every jingle of his keys.
Me: “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
Nick: “What!?”
Me: “This is a setup! It’s a trick, they’re gonna wait until you start the car and then they’re gonna pull you over and arrest you for DUI.”
Nick: “Holy shit, your right.”
Nick: “What do we do?”
Me: “I think we have to get out and walk.”
Nick: “Fuck.”
We get out of the car and begin to just stand there. The Boston Cop then drives up:
Boston Cop: “What’s the matter?”
Nick: “My stomach hurts.”
Boston Cop: “Why doesn’t he drive then?”
Nick: “Oh … his stomach hurts, too.”
Boston Cop: “…”
Boston Cop: “Come on, you can tell me, did you guys take some rolls?”
Me: “What are rolls?”
Nick: “Dinner rolls?”
We had foiled their plot and the Boston Cop drove off. Nick and I begin walking while Nick rifles through his phone looking for someone reliable that will pick us up at 4:30am. Needless to say, this idea failed miserably. I then pull out my phone and decide to call the only friend that I could think of that would come and get us. I called “GQ.” GQ was a friend of mine that was not into partying at the time. He had a hard labor type job that he went to every morning at 5:30am or so. I knew that if I called him that he would come and get us. I also knew that he would be pissed and that we probably wouldn’t be friends anymore after he dropped us off. I dialed GQ’s number and after a couple rings, a groggy, pissed off GQ answered. I don’t remember the conversation, but I do remember that it started with a, “What the fuck do you want?” Somehow I got GQ to get up, get dressed, leave for work early, drive 30 minutes to get us, drop us both off in different places and then go to work.
The car ride home consisted of me thanking GQ about 200 times while Nick drooled quietly in the back seat. Nick didn’t say a single word the entire ride and just got out without a goodbye when we got to his house. I continued to thank GQ and apologize for Nick’s behalf and the 10 minute drive between Nick’s house and mine. Once GQ dropped me off I went inside and stopped in my parent’s huge living room. The house was totally dark and I spent the better part of a half hour searching for a light switch. Any light switch. I ended up abandoning my search and curling up in the fetal position on the couch until I had to pee a couple hours later. I slept the entire next day and swore off beans forever. I then revised my oath to include only Pink Flies.
A few months later, “Pink Flies” showed up in the database on DanceSafe.org. DanceSafe tested for all chemicals: LSD, Cocaine, MDMA, Methamphetamine, Caffeine, and all other variants. The Pink Flies pictured were noted as containing “Unknown Substance.”
Pink Flies
It was a humid night in June of 2001 and 2 kids had a whole night already planned from start to finish. The first stop began at local CVS Pharmacy with the purchase of 2 Vicks Inhalers and a bottle of Pepto Bismol. Nick and I had planned out nights like this several times and this was just another night to us. Unfortunately for us, this Saturday was going to go down a little different than all the weekends prior. This night, just like many others that summer, involved the 3 best friends ever in Brevard County: Nick, myself and our good friend Ecstasy.
Nick and I were experienced ravers. We knew all the “up’s-and-down’s” to eating beans. We always drank tons of water, had a pair of Vicks Inhalers, glow sticks, a pile of good CD’s, a club to go to, an after party to go to afterwards; however, this was our first time using Pepto Bismol to coat our stomachs. We had been told that this would make our roll last longer. In retrospect, this was probably the worst time to prove that theory accurate..
On this night we had arranged to meet up with one of our boys to get a couple pills each, just like we had done a dozen weekends before that summer. At around 9:00 pm we met up and drove to an apartment complex in Rockledge and met up with some friends who we tolerated because they had turntables, girls and most importantly… beans. These “friends” were a couple in their late twenties who were pretty lame, but really nice people. They always had random people over. Most of the people that gathered there were like us and by like us I mean, “people that would never hang out there, but just stopped by to grab some beans” and then make their way out on the town that night. When we stopped by this night, the only people that were there were us, the couple that lived there, a DJ that was always spinning records there and the man that would hand us 5 pills that would change our perspective on rolling and turn an ordinary kick-ass night into a famous story among our friends. Only a few people have heard this story in its entirety from Nick or myself due to its many layers of craziness and pure length to tell it right.
So we met up with this guy who will remain nameless. We’ll call him “Dead-Man John”. Dead-Man John was late as usual and we hated hanging out at this apartment without being on Ecstasy because… well basically the apartment sucked and so did the people who lived there. When John arrived he produced the beans which were called “Pink Flies.” Now for those of you who have never tripped on ecstasy (a.k.a. “Rolling”), Ecstasy, commonly called “beans” on the street, are almost always “stamped” with a symbol. It’s usually a mainstream logo like the Motorola symbol, The Stay Puff Marshmallow Man, and so on. These were pink in color and had a giant fly inscribed onto them. They were also “double stacks” which meant that they were twice as thick as normal beans. We gladly accepted the 5 pills without complaint; however, we were probably the most responsible ravers in Brevard County and receiving 5 pills that we had never heard of made us both pretty nervous. You see, we had several guys that we got beans from and we always picked them up ahead of time. After we would set up a meeting, we would go on a website called DanceSafe.com. This was a site that was so popular during this time that it often crashed. It was a site that had pictures of pills and told what all the ingredients were after being chemically-tested and even the geography of where they were being sold. So, we would call our pusher, ask what kind he had on hand and then check the website to confirm if they were legit or adulterated (i.e. speed). We hadn’t seen or heard of these “Pink Flies” before.
It was about 10:00 pm now and we had our 5 beans and were on our way to the club. Nick and I had several things that we did the same every time we rolled. One was to take our first bean about 15 minutes before we got to the club. The place where we got the beans this time was exactly 15 minutes away. We also always took them the same way. We chewed the first one and the moment we felt it start to work, we would swallow the second one. For those of you who have never chewed up a bean I would have to describe its taste as Aspirin mixed with ashes. It tastes terrible; however, it works a lot faster this way. After we chewed the first pill, it tasted totally foreign—even more so than “Aspirin and Ashes.” The Pink Flies tasted like pure battery acid.
It’s now 10:20 pm or so and we have now reached Storm Club in Cocoa Beach. Storm Club was one of the hottest places on the planet at that time and we could be seen melting into one of the couches in “the chill room” more times than I could count. Those of you who have only been there in the last couple of years would never believe that it was the best rave club around not named “Cyberzone” (an Epic rolling club in Orlando), but it was fucking ridiculous then. I once saw Dj Baby Anne perform there and it was so packed that the temperature from the body-heat set off the fire sprinklers. True story.
Nick had this “tradition.” Every time that he rolled, he HAD to take a shit right before we arrived at the club. When we went to Storm Club, this was always done at the Denny’s restaurant across the street. As we exited the car, we both realized that we were extremely fucked up. I put another pill in my mouth and took a swig of Zephyr Hills, Nick took the last two Pink Flies that remained in his possession. As we walked around Denny’s from the back lot to the front and walked through foliage to get there. We stumbled through the entranced decked out in our rave attire (Me: My baggy khaki’s and navy blue Adidas shirt and Nick in his baggy jeans, yellow Adidas nylon shirt and white Adidas visor.) *Side note* This shirt that Nick had on was the ugliest fucking shirt I have ever seen. I could literally spot him in a club full of 500 people because it was black light-responsive and illuminated in the club like a giant glow stick. Everyone hated it and if you ask him for a picture of it, he can send you one from back in the day… fucking terrible shirt!
The hostess looked at us funny. It’s not like we were the first fucked up people at Denny’s ever, it’s just that we were already grinding our teeth had huge pupils and we didn’t want a seat. The dialogue that transpired went something like this.
Denny’s Lady: “Ya’ll want a table?”
Mangled Nick: “Bathroom.”
Denny’s Lady: “It’s over there. Where do you guys wanna sit?”
Mangled Nick: “I just need to shit.”
Me: “He just needs to shit. Can I have a water to go?”
Denny’s Lady: Jesus Christ. *Goes to get me water*
She hands me the water and I take a huge sip out of it and look at her as if she had poisoned me.
Denny’s Lady: “What’s wrong?”
Me: “What the fuck is this, hot milk?”
Denny’s Lady: “What? It’s ice water.”
I then opened the top of the Styrofoam cup and looked into it for what seemed like 2 minutes. “Oh, Thanks,” I said. I then speed walked into the bathroom.
Tripping Me: “Nick!”
Shitting Nick: “What?”
Tripping Me: “Dude, I tripping balls!”
Shitting Nick: “What’s wrong?”
Tripping Me: “I just took a sip of this ice water and it tastes like warm milk.”
Shitting Nick: “That’s fucking weird. I feel funny, too. This shit feels really good and that creeps me out.”
Some guy then walks in and looks at me like I’m a fucking weirdo. It might have been because I was squatting down in front of the urinal, looking in to my open Styrofoam cup, while facing the occupied stall and talking to the dude taking a shit.
Nick finally finishes his pre-club ritual and we walked to Storm Club. As we began walking, Nick made a yelp like a puppy who had his tail stepped on and started clawing at his neck. He said he felt a spider crawling on him and I said that he must be tripping. As it turns out he really did have a big spider on his back because the trail blazing we did to get to Denny’s in the first place. After waiting in a long ass line, we finally made it inside the club. Yup that’s right, you didn’t read that wrong. Storm Club used to have a line around the building! Once we got inside I immediately felt fucking amazing. The music was so loud and the place was packed. There was a live act called “Prophecy” performing that that night. They only had one hit on radio, it believe it was called “Supersonic Psyche.” The particular song was pretty lame, but most of their music was different from the Dj Sharaz, Dj Icey and other Florida breakbeats that were customarily listened to in that era. All of that aside, they were amazing live.
Storm club was packed with everyone from all walks of life. From your typical ravers to dudes wearing collared shirts and cords. Nick and I would usually split up the minute we entered the club when we were rolling. Tonight was no different, at least, not yet…
Usually, when I rolled I was either: very happy and active (dancing, talking, moving a lot) or I was a spineless ball of Jell-O who was sunken into a couch somewhere in a corner looking mangled (having the time of my life though I might add). This time was a mix of being very happy, mixed with a good bit of disorientation. I remember running into old friends and chatting up a bunch of complete strangers and telling them how nice it was to meet them and telling them to have a great night. This part of the night is still very blurry to me and it was about 2 hours before Prophecy went on. I know that I never saw Nick once and when I met up with him later, he told me that he hadn’t left the dance floor once. He was covered in sweat and told me that he was dancing so fast that he kept seeing the bottom of his shoes. He said it felt like his legs were made out of rubber and that everyone was just standing around watching him “go” And that people said he was dancing amazing, doing moves they hadn’t seen him do before.
We’ll get to our reunion later. So, after two hours of mingling I meet this dude who tells me that he does the lighting for Prophecy. He tells me that he can get water for free and starts telling me stories about the people in the group. He goes and a bottle of water from the bar and brings me back one, also. I know, I know it already sounds like he’s gay. You’ve got to understand though that when guys are rolling that they act like chicks when it comes to empathy and kindness. With all that aside, this dude was definitely trying to fuck me. Gross. I can remember our conversations now crystal clear and if I wasn’t rolling I would have said, “Get the fuck away from me or I’ll bash you”, the second he said, “Hey, I get free water, do you want me to get you some? I can hook you up all night.” However, I was rolling my ass off and very thirsty. Because rave clubs didn’t sell nearly as much alcohol (Alcohol and Ecstasy have no effect on each other) a bottled water at a rave clubs was 4 dollars each, back then. That’s ridiculous. I used to have to include water into my night out budget. WTF? Anyways, after drinking about 3 waters in 10 minutes, I made my way to the front of the stage.
Prophecy was on stage warming up and plugging equipment in. The entire group, except for the lead singer, that is. The lead singer’s name is Shannon Denise and currently she is the lead for a band named “Pretty Ugly.” If you look her up now you will think she is just average looking with a side of ugly; however, when she performed with Prophecy, she was bigger than life and every raver fan-boy wanted to fuck her.
After about 10 minutes of looking at these geeky douches stand on stage, the guitarists gave someone in the back of the crowd a signal. The lights went out (thanks to the fag with the endless water supply) and a spotlight went to the back of the crowd. The DJ for the band started playing some wilderness sounding trance track and then I saw her.
She was on some big guys shoulders and she had a pair of angel wings on. Not some dumbass K-Mart angel wings, either. This bitch was rocking a 6-foot wing span-. I started “blowing up” and must have had a smile on my face from ear-to-ear. The big guy throws her on stage and she starts dancing like she was possessed and flinging her hair around. She then proceeds to hit this note right off the bat and hold it for what seemed to be 2 weeks. The place went nuts. She then goes into the verses of whatever song she was singing and this is when it hits me like a pile of bricks and I realize that whatever is in my stomach is not Ecstasy. I am tripping. There is a big difference between a high of Ecstasy and a Psychedelic trip.
I start freaking out. I feel like I have an invisible blanket on and start looking around frantically. I just can’t understand why everyone isn’t staring at me. Everyone should be staring at me! You mean to tell me that NO ONE notices that I’m floating above the stage? Just as this is happening, the lead singer stops singing and walks up to the front of the stage. She squats down in front of me, looks at me and holds this note that sounds like a squeal from a dolphin. I am now frozen in time right in front of her and she knows by looking at me that I am tripping. She leans as far forward as she can and makes direct eyes contact with me. I look at her for a couple seconds and then she yells, “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaa.” I got so startled I jumped in the air and felt like I had 10 orgasms at once. For the rest of the show I was a mangled mess. I must have looked like I was miserable. I don’t remember much of the show after this except that I was very aware that whatever I had taken had something in it other than Ecstasy. There was definitely ecstasy-like characteristics going on, but a lot of the things that were happening were very out of the norm.
After, the band got done, Nick found me and told me about his rubber legs of madness and told me that we were going to a late-night club called Harmony in Palm Bay in a couple minutes. We discussed how both of us were feeling and decided that it wasn’t normal. We both weren’t worried because we weren’t having a bad trip, but we were experiencing some hallucinations and we both felt very intoxicated. Normally when we were rolling we felt fine to drive or handle any situation. Not tonight. When we got to the car we both decided that we should wait for a while until one of us felt ok to drive. After waiting for a good 45 seconds (give or take 45 seconds or so) Nick decided that he was ok.
We made it about 500 yards and Nick decided that he was way too mangled to make it another foot. He pulled into the gas station where A1A has a fork in the road. Nick got out of the car to pump some gas. I took the water bottle out of the center console and chugged the whole thing down. I immediately opened the passenger door and projectile vomited several feet. Nick leans into the driver side and says, “Oh my God, are you alright?” I picked my head up from under the car and very uncomfortably replied, “That felt fucking amazing.” How disgusting is that? I quickly puked for a second time and made a sound similar to an orgasm afterwards. I sat back in the seat and felt disgusting. This was the first time that I ever felt like I was “on drugs.” By that I meant, I obviously knew that for the past couple of months that we were taking Ecstasy, but I never felt embarrassed or pathetic. We were always around hundreds of our friends who were all fucked up, too and the club scene always involved parties. It was widely accepted then like alcohol is still now. No other drug is based solely around a party. Heroine is usually slammed in a slummy house or in a bathroom. Weed is usually done is a social setting at first, but then it becomes something that people do by themselves. Coke can be introduced in the party scene, but the pure addictiveness of it makes it habitual and eventually it will be done all the time, so we stayed away from this… but now I was taking pleasure in puking. I felt disgusting and after this point in the night everything became sad and terrible to me. I was starting to have what is known as a “bad trip.”
I told Nick that we had to get the fuck out of here and he told me that as soon as he figured out the gas pump we would leave. I put my head back and wait for Nick to tell the counter lady that her pumps are broken. Nick went inside and made his case that the pumps were broken. The people in line and the hag behind the register knew that my friend should be in straight jacket and not behind the wheel of a car. Nick sounded like a dumbass, received instructions on how to properly pump gas, then came back and did so accordingly. Apparently, he had been smashing the yellow 87 octane sticker instead of the actual 3-demensional button that makes the fucking pump work!
We continued on our journey to Harmony and made it to 4th St. South. For those of you familiar with Cocoa Beach, that’s only a couple miles down the road. Nick started freaking out and said that he couldn’t drive anymore, but said that he had heard from some friends of his that they regularly go to the beach while rolling and they love it. Sounded like a good idea to me, so I was in.
We pull into a parking space at the beach and just sit in our car for a couple minutes. After talking about how we were gonna get all the way to Harmony in Palm Bay, we decided that no matter what was going to happen later, we needed to sober up first and the beach sounded good to us. We walked down to the beach and sat in the sand about 20 feet from the surf. I tried to close my eyes and lay down and that was a terrible idea. What happened next would be no big deal now, but at the time I was a little out of my fucking mind. I got bit by a sand flea. One sand flea. Sometimes when you lay on the beach, you get bit by sand fleas. I know this. I have always known this. That night I didn’t know this. I freaked the fuck out. “Shit is fucking biting me Nick!” Nick didn’t make a move and just mumbled “Your fine, you’re just freaking out.” I said, “I know I’m freaking out, but it still feels like shit is biting me.” More sand fleas bit me. “Ahhhhh, it feels like shit is all over me bro.” This was more likely just the sand being stuck to my grimy sweat-covered skin.
Nick then starts talking about what it would be like if this was a deserted island and we found buried treasure. I said, “What the fuck are you talking about?” Nick then pointed down in the sand to a hole that he had begun to dig. “Look”, Nick said in a goblin voice. “Buried Treasure!” I looked down and Nick had buried… and then dug up, a glow stick. He looked at me like a 6 year old that had just handed his father a picture that he drew.
I was not amused. “Wow, we’re fucked up”, I said. Nick was still looking at me for approval on his “discovery.” I got up and walked to the stairs and sat at the bottom with my head in my hands and closed my eyes. Nick soon followed me and sat down next to me. I don’t know how long we sat there but after a little while I heard someone coming down the stairs. I turned around and looked up to see some shady character coming down the stairs. He squeezed past the two of us and said, “Oops, sorry guys.” He said sorry because he thought we were gay. He didn’t say sorry because he was walking past us. He thought he broke up a love session. I immediately said, “No! We’re just fucked up, we’re not queers.” After saying, “Oh,” he then introduced himself and I have no recollection of his name so we’ll call him “Jim.” Jim then walked up the stairs a couple of steps and said, “Me, too. What did you guys take?” Nick told him that we had taken some beans that had turned on us. “What did you take”, Nick asked the dude that we would never normally talk to. “I took two xanax, an oxy, and a couple beers” The conversation went on for a couple minutes. Nick was tripping so hard that his words were morphing together and Nick couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. Nick kept asking him to repeat himself over and over. I later found out that Nick thought he had a thick accent, but he spoke clear as day to me. I can’t remember anything else except for the introduction and what he asked next that would make this story just get worse.
Jim says, “You guys wanna come chill back at my place, its right across the street.” I said, “Dude, you know we’re not gay right.” And he said, “Relax bro, I just meant that you guys could chill for a while and drink some water until you feel good enough to drive home.” Jim then got upset and started walking home by himself and I could care less. Nick on the other hand, realized we were running low on water and thought that if we didn’t keep drinking water… we would DIE! Nick talks me into going with this guy until we drank a couple glasses of water and then we would leave. We get up and start jogging after this guy. His apartment was literally across the street. We walked inside and sat on the couch.
This place was dark and cluttered. It wasn’t necessarily dirty, but you could tell that he was poor and probably had fucked up strangers over to his place often. Now me, being the astute observer that I am, couldn’t help but notice that there was a grown man laying on the ground at the beginning of his hallway in the “police chalk outline position.” I pointed this out to Nick and he said, “He’s not bothering anyone, fuck ‘em.” Jim returns to our couch with a plastic vase full of water. He hands it to Nick who drinks out of it with two hands like a toddler with a sippy-cup. I reach for it and Nick grunts at me, still drinking.
Jim turns on the T.V. and its some old John Wayne western. When the T.V. comes on, Jim’s wife comes out of a room in the back. She comes down the hall and steps over the dude on the floor like he was a sock or something. She asks Jim to come over to her and he gets up and goes into the hall. I can hear everything she is saying, plus there is a mirror that is near the kitchen so I can see them, too. “Who the fuck are these two guys?” He says, “They’re just two guys who need to chill for a while.” I want them to get the fuck out of my house now.” He says, “Ok, ok, I will make them leave in a couple minutes.” She then goes into the room she came out of and slams the fuck out of the door. The dude on the floor is dead I think. Jim comes over to us like we couldn’t hear what she was saying and plops down next to us. I think Jim was more fucked up than us, which is hard to believe.
I start drinking water and watching T.V. I start squinting at the T.V. and can’t believe what I am seeing. Everyone’s face in the movie is melting and I freak out again. Literally at the same time, Nick starts freaking out too. He says that everyone on the screen is made of dripping water and their eyes were all white, they had no pupils. I start describing their acid burned faces. We both start seeing the same things and Nick again decides that we need more water. Jim takes the vase and fills it up again and just as he returns to the couch, his wife comes back out and yells, “Jim get the fuck in here now!” Jim goes to turn around and Nick stops him and demands the vase full of water.
Jim hands Nick the water and then begs him to talk to his wife and get him out of trouble. So, the drooling and tooth grinding Nick gets up, with his eyes-crossed from the psychedelics, he walks into the hallway of death and tries to convince this Jim’s wife that none of us were that fucked up and that Jim only had “two”. Whatever the “two” was--is unknown, but this is what Jim coached Nick to say. Unfortunately for Jim, his coaching was in ear-shot of his wife. Nick walked over to her as she was still standing in the hall way and knowing she must have heard what transpired, Nick said his rehearsed line anyway, with the terrible delivery of someone clearly on large quantities of drugs. She said, “Okay.” in a way only consistent with the way a Psychologist agrees with a patient in a psych ward. Nick had failed miserably.
After being sent out of the room by Jim’s wife, Nick, sensed that we were gonna get the boot soon, and started guzzling the water like a bukkake film star. Jim and his crazy wife exchange about 20 words and then she punches the shit out of him. She hit him like a grown ass man. He fell all the way to the end of the hall and didn’t move for a couple seconds. As he began to get up, Nick knew it was time to bounce. Nick, still clutching the vase with a death grip, jumped up ran for the door. I followed in behind him and took on last look behind me as his wife kicked him while he was down. He fell into the dead guy who didn’t move… because he was dead.
We were halfway across the parking lot when his wife exited the apartment with a hop in her step. “Hey guys, come back for a second, I have to give you something”, she called in her cute girl-scout voice. I turned around and started walking back and was quickly snatched by my collar by Nick. “What the fuck are you doing? Don’t go back there.” I said, “Yeah, why would we go back?” Nick then yelled back, “Um, no thanks. Bye!” As we stood there she revealed a full-sized Aluminum Baseball Bat from behind her back. She screamed back, “GOOD! Because I’ll FUCKING KILL YOU!” as she swings the bat above her head.“Oh fuck,” I yelled as we sprinted across A1A back to the beach.
After taking a breather next to the car for a couple minutes we both decided that it would be a good idea to listen to some trance music to calm down. We usually listened to trance music on our way down from rolling, so we figured it was worth a shot. As we were sitting in the car things just kept getting worse. I kept seeing things and Nick did, too. I don’t remember much from this time period except that I kept telling Nick that I knew that the shadow from the palm tree in front of his car was not a monster, but it sure looked like one. When I say I kept saying that, I mean approximately 20 times.
Me: “Hey Nick, you see that tree, it’s a monster. I mean, I know it’s not really a monster, but it is right now. Ya know what I mean man, it’s a monster, but… it’s not.”
You would think that this would sound weird to Nick, but he looked at the shadow and agreed and added that the ”No Loitering” sign was waving back and forth like it was made out of liquid and that everywhere he looked was “dripping” as if it had been raining. I then became very depressed and kept calling us losers and vowing to kill Dead-Man John for giving us these fucked up beans. (I never got the chance; he OD’d about a week later on Oxy’s. Now you know why we call him “Dead-Man John”) My bad trip continued to get worse as our deep conversation was then interrupted by 3 Cocoa Beach squad cars screeching into the parking lot like we were hiding Osama Bin Laden. Nick, who was sitting in the drivers’ seat, grabbed the keys out of the ignition and threw them up into the center console. 3 cops stormed the car in about half a second and had both doors open immediately. “Get out of the car!” The main cop who was about 5’7” with huge arms and a Boston accent started yelling at Nick.
Boston Cop: “What did you throw, what did you throw!?”
Nick nervously exclaimed, “My keys, it was just my keys.”
Boston Cop: “Yeah right, tell me what it was!”
I on the other hand had some big doofy fucker that looked like Donald Duck holding me against the car and patting me down.
Donald Duck: “Where are the drugs?”
Me: “I don’t have anything.”
Donald Duck: “We’re gonna tear this car apart, so you might as well tell us.”
Me: “I don’t give a shit, it’s not my car.”
Boston Cop: “We’re gonna bring the dog.”
Nick: “Go ahead and bring the dog, You can bring Lassie or bring Rin-TinTin, there’s nothing in the car.”
The two cops that were dealing with us and the other guy who was standing by held a meeting and left me and Nick alone for a minute.
Nick: “God damnit, what the fuck.”
Me: “Oh fuck, they said that they’re gonna bring a dog.”
Nick: “So, we don’t have anything.”
Me: “Dude, the dog’s gonna smell the beans in our stomachs.”
Yup, that’s really what I said. I was that out of my mind that I actually thought that the drug dog would bark at my stomach.
After leaving us to simmer for a couple minutes the cops reconvened at Nick’s vehicle and tore that bitch apart. They pulled off his door panels, popped his trunk and unscrewed his speakers from his box and even pulled up some of his carpet. At one point Ofc. Duck found a sesame seed in the back seat from hamburger and jumped out of the car and walked up to Nick.
Ofc. Duck: “What is this?”
Nick: “I dunno, a sesame seed?”
Ofc. Duck: “It looks like a marijuana seed to me.”
Nick: “It better not be!”…. (Good comeback Nick)
Nick wasn’t a big fan of pot, so the likelihood of that actually being a pot seed was incredibly low. If it had actually been, it would have definitely been a spliff-smoking friend Dwayne’s fault.
After a while of non-sense, Nick’s composure was impeccable. He realized that they really didn’t have anything on us. Nick even put quarters in the parking meters when we first arrived. Nick’s sarcasm began to get thick.
Ofc. Duck then put me up against the car and proceeded to search my ass crack and taint.
Me: “Whoa, what the fuck are you doing?”
Ofc.“Duck: “Do you like that?”
Me: “No.”
Ofc. Duck: “That’s funny because the only dudes that come down here are either doing drugs or fucking.”
Me: “Well we’re not gay.”
Eventually the cops huddle together and the Boston Cop comes back to us, gives Nick the keys to his car and says, “You guys are free to drive home. You can’t stay here because this is a no parking zone.” Nick explained that he had paid the meter, but he exclaimed that we are loitering.
The two other cop cars leave and one stays behind. It’s the Boston Cop. It looks as though he is going to do some paperwork and was not interested in us any longer.
Nick and I quickly jumped into the car and let of a sigh of relief. We were home free!
Me: “I can’t believe they didn’t hook us up for some bullshit.”
Nick: “I know, I thought we were fucked. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
This next part happened in slow motion to me. Nick’s keys came out of his pocket in slow motion and I could hear every jingle of his keys.
Me: “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
Nick: “What!?”
Me: “This is a setup! It’s a trick, they’re gonna wait until you start the car and then they’re gonna pull you over and arrest you for DUI.”
Nick: “Holy shit, your right.”
Nick: “What do we do?”
Me: “I think we have to get out and walk.”
Nick: “Fuck.”
We get out of the car and begin to just stand there. The Boston Cop then drives up:
Boston Cop: “What’s the matter?”
Nick: “My stomach hurts.”
Boston Cop: “Why doesn’t he drive then?”
Nick: “Oh … his stomach hurts, too.”
Boston Cop: “…”
Boston Cop: “Come on, you can tell me, did you guys take some rolls?”
Me: “What are rolls?”
Nick: “Dinner rolls?”
We had foiled their plot and the Boston Cop drove off. Nick and I begin walking while Nick rifles through his phone looking for someone reliable that will pick us up at 4:30am. Needless to say, this idea failed miserably. I then pull out my phone and decide to call the only friend that I could think of that would come and get us. I called “GQ.” GQ was a friend of mine that was not into partying at the time. He had a hard labor type job that he went to every morning at 5:30am or so. I knew that if I called him that he would come and get us. I also knew that he would be pissed and that we probably wouldn’t be friends anymore after he dropped us off. I dialed GQ’s number and after a couple rings, a groggy, pissed off GQ answered. I don’t remember the conversation, but I do remember that it started with a, “What the fuck do you want?” Somehow I got GQ to get up, get dressed, leave for work early, drive 30 minutes to get us, drop us both off in different places and then go to work.
The car ride home consisted of me thanking GQ about 200 times while Nick drooled quietly in the back seat. Nick didn’t say a single word the entire ride and just got out without a goodbye when we got to his house. I continued to thank GQ and apologize for Nick’s behalf and the 10 minute drive between Nick’s house and mine. Once GQ dropped me off I went inside and stopped in my parent’s huge living room. The house was totally dark and I spent the better part of a half hour searching for a light switch. Any light switch. I ended up abandoning my search and curling up in the fetal position on the couch until I had to pee a couple hours later. I slept the entire next day and swore off beans forever. I then revised my oath to include only Pink Flies.
A few months later, “Pink Flies” showed up in the database on DanceSafe.org. DanceSafe tested for all chemicals: LSD, Cocaine, MDMA, Methamphetamine, Caffeine, and all other variants. The Pink Flies pictured were noted as containing “Unknown Substance.”
