In my case, things went backwards. There was no "experimenting" before the big Monday Night Disaster, no taking it slow whatsoever. I did not get coaxed into taking a bit at a time and I hadn't ever actually tried anything before - I mean, I had, but nothing (except me coughing like an old lady) had happened.
You know me, I had to have the whole thing, all at the same time, in ridiculously huge quantities.
I left the bathroom holding hands with my friend and laughing at how absurd it was that the bathroom was 2-in-1 (men and women in the same sweaty, slippery room). I fished the sunglasses I'd stolen from a guy at another club two months ago and slapped them on, advertising my night's mission - I was to find some ridiculously drunk guy who'd be thrilled with getting free sunglasses, and I'd finally get rid of my "stolen goods" (yeah, I'm silly and supersticious like that; I steal, but I can't keep it for more than a few months).
"Everyone's staring, you know," my friend Crazy let go of my hand and laughed at me.
"That's the point," I grinned back, "I mean, how are they to know what they're in for if I don't put on a show?"
He laughed, then suddenly shifted his attention to a familiar-looking girl by the mirrored wall. I'd met her two months ago exactly, during my crazy let's-pretend-to-play-soccer adventure trip with my uni's team (I sucked and all the girls in the team hated me by the end of the trip, but oh well - I got to go and had ridiculous amounts of alcohol-fueled fun). I'd stolen the sunglasses from a hippie guy that went to my uni's rival during that same trip, so I was feeling all mystical about the significance of running into her tonight. I explained my mission and she laughed, but agreed to help me find the perfect victim.
Suddenly, my friend Crazy pushed me up against the wall and told me to open my mouth. I'd still been talking to the girl, so I was more than just a little startled.
"Whatsup?" I semi-slurred, my eyes all wide and child-like and confused. He looked at me all naughty and mischievous and up to no good, and if I didn't know better about us being strictly just friends, I would have imagined something else. God knows where my head was at that moment, but I just did what he said and opened my mouth (okay, I didn't just open my mouth - I made a totally stupid face and stuck my tongue out at him while I gave him the finger). Anyways, to my utter (and further) surprise, Crazy stuck his thumb in my mouth and under my tongue, then removed it and licked it "clean".
I was about to ask what the fuck was the matter with him when I felt a tiny paper-like thingy stuck underneath my tongue. O...kay.
"Swallow," he patted my head and gave me a patronising smile, as if he was talking to his pet dog.
"What's this?" I felt sort of panicky and glanced around expecting to see pink elephants on parade in the air.
"You said you had a thing for Woodstock," he shrugged, his pirate smile still on, "Now relax, will you? Don't wait for it to kick in."
An hour later, I still wasn't feeling a thing, to my relief. I mean, when did I become this sort of girl? Yes, I had a thing for JD shots and clubs during weekdays, but it was all for the fun&music. I am not by any means the sort of person who randomly takes acid at a club on the wrong side of town at three in the morning with a guy whose secret nickname is Crazy. People who know me can confirm I am more likely to spend a Friday night at home re-reading the "House of Night" Series or watching "Heroes", so this whole situation was certainly... different. To say the least. But then again, I'd been starting to feel like a big fat liar. I mean, how could I say I liked rock and how could I say the twisted truths I said to my friends without dragging the full trouble-maker persona at my heels? I clash. I clash with myself a lot in many respects, so me simultaneously being a book-nerd and the world's biggest JD-shot drinker had recently started to get on my nerves.
I just took Crazy's advice and relaxed. It was in my system already, wasn't it? Nothing I could do about it this far.
It still wasn't working though. I vaguely wondered if I was too much of a good girl for the acid to want to make me nuts, and I half-cringed at the thought of the tiny paper thingy laughing at me from my own insides. (But then again, there I was giving a drug thingy living qualities - maybe I was hallucinating already after all).
"This sucks," I yelled at Crazy over the loud music ('Friday I'm In Love' by The Cure, at that moment), "It's not even working."
Crazy nodded in agreement and stuck his hand in his Diesel jeans pocket again. He motioned for me to open my mouth and before I could even half-think the whole thing through, I opened up and left it under my tongue for a little longer this time.
About twenty minutes later, the lights start going fuzzy. I'm ecstatic about being at this city's best club in terms of lighting effects because the multi-colored lasers are now making bizarre shapes on the walls and in front of my eyes and I can literally feel neon-blue glitter falling on my face and washing me clean of the night's tricks. People seem to be laughing at me and I tell Crazy and he laughs at me too and says with a knowing look "It's finally kicked in. Enjoy!"
And just like that, he's suddenly the Master of Ceremony of a big, colorful circus with scary women and fat slobby men. But then the song changes to 'Pretty Woman' and both the women and the men are now transvestis with fake boobs and exaggerated makeup and absurdly high heels. "They're gonna trip," I say, desperately making an attempt to hold up a girl who, incidentally, doesn't need to be held up. Jesus, I forgot I was at the wrong side of town - she gives me a twisted smile and jerks her head towards the bathroom, inviting me to some craaazy adventure Goodie-Good Me wouldn't understand. I laugh and Crazy pulls me away just in time.
"I need to dance," I suddenly tell him over Lissy Trullie's 'Ready For the Floor'. I make some unfortunate remark over Megan Fox's utter hotness (somehow, I wasn't high enough to forget that the song was in her latest disaster "Jennifer's Body") and off we go to the very center of the dancefloor. Crazy expertly guides me through the Trip, despite his also very mindless state, alternating between telling me to shut my eyes and soak it all in, covering my ears with his hands and making me feel like The Beatles' yellow submarine (under the sea and on my way to meeting Sgt. Pepper at an octopus' garden - in the shade), and massaging my back as if I was made out of plasticine (and giving me very intense and indecent shudders all over).
Next thing I knew, it was already almost 7am. The girl I'd met two months ago had left and Crazy and I were sitting side by side on a very comfy leather seat facing a particularly disgusting-looking couple. The guy was a goth to the extreme, sniffing at something his dirty hands shakily concealed, and the girl was sort of fat but stylishly dressed, and deserved much, much better than him. Crazy and I were having fun holding hands and staring up at a stain on the ceiling, describing to each other our very own versions of flying 'C's' up in the air (mine was yellow and purple and girly and his was grafitti-like on flames and very guy-ish).
"I gotta call Dad," I heard myself telling him once we were out watching the sunrise. I was having my umpteenth ciggie of the night and in no state to go home.
"You nuts?" he laughed at me whole-heartedly.
"Long story short, I promised him I'd call him tonight. He'll literally kill me if I don't," I told him with a heavy weight tearing at my insides and sinking to the pit of my stomach.
"Sure you don't want to wait till you're... down again?" Crazy offered and I shook my head.
And as Crazy went on and on about being sucked into the ground by the music and feeling every single person's thoughts and souls right next to his, I called Dad and told him I was ready. Dad made some comment on the time and the sun and the morning traffic, but was on his way.
"I'm so, so screwed," I laughed only so I wouldn't cry. People's waxy faces were suddenly scaring me, and despite how beautiful the sunrise was, I knew for a fact I was nowhere near sober yet. In fact, this Monday Night's Craziness hadn't even started - the worst of it hadn't even kicked in. What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
(to be continued...)
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