All sea stories have a common difference with any fairy tale. The difference is that a fairy tale begins with "once upon a time," and a sea story begins with "no shit, this is a true story." With that being said; No shit, this is a true story.
It was a typical Friday afternoon in the middle of a Georgia summer. We had just returned from the longest deployment we had to date. Sitting in my living room with noting to do, we stared at each other with devastating disappointment. It was at this point that we had the bright idea to buy some ecstasy. Luke and I set off to the pick up, and the others prepared the house for a fun night.
Brittany had the pills in hand when we arrived. But these were not normal looking pills, or, rather, they were. Deep shades of blue and red, they basically looked like colored aspirin. Reluctantly, I grabbed two of each, and we headed back.
Foil paper covering the windows, black lights on, and some chill electronic music playing; the mood was set. The worst part about doing ecstasy is the waiting. Waiting for the good feelings to come, the warmth to set in, and the overwhelming love that takes you over. If you think about it too hard, it will not be as good when it happens. At least, that is what they say.
Nearly an hour has passed. Long, longer than average. Most pills don't take this long. I guess Brittany burned us, or got burned from whoever she got them from. Luke and The Chef are talking their heads off. Not the kind you may be expecting, but they are going on and on about some bullshit. A game maybe. I don't know. What I do know is that I am bored as fuck. Bored enough to be looking at my curtains. I don't remember them being so purple. What color are they? White? Beige? Honestly, I have no idea. What are they talking about? I can barely hear them now that they are so far away. Why are they so far away? They haven't moved.
"What do you think?" Luke asked as his face was now closer than it had ever been to mine. I turned to look at our new friend, The Chef, who is rolling around in our papasan like a cat in heat. "I think this shit just kicked in."
I loved it. No care, no worries, not a dam thing to bother me. The music started thumping, drops of irradiated psychedelic milk began to spill out from the TV screen and on to the floor. The laser danced through the fog that now occupied the entire house. The black light was the only thing keeping my center. Then it was gone. The strobe took over. No other light could be seen. I fell and missed the couch. The milk that had fallen to the floor began to notice me. I was nowhere near home.
A strangely hatted man picked me up, and sat me on the tailgate of the most bizarre truck I had ever seen. He made some adjustments, set me on my way. I was working again as part of the machine I had fallen from. The truck drove off into the background with me on the back enjoying the various mechanisms at work. Everything was in harmony with some rhythm or sound that could not really be heard, but felt more than anything. I took a closer look at it, and noticed a most familiar shape. As everyone went about their business, I labored away at solving this rub-ix cube of a molecule. I was certain that it contained the answer we were all looking for. Yes its almost...
What the fuck? Where is everyone? Have I been on the couch this entire time? Why are they in the corner?
Luke: Oh my God! He's alive!
Me: What do you mean, "He's alive!?"
Luke: We thought you were dead.
Me: Why would you think that?
Luke: Well, you didn't have a pulse, and you were cold to the touch.
Me: So why didn't you take me to the hospital?
Luke: "We figured you were already dead, and we didn't want to get in trouble."
Me: Man, you guys are assholes. Give me a cigarette. I cannot believe I came back to this shit.
I tried many times to recreate that experience. I was certain that I was on to something. Images from that night occasionally make an appearance in things I read, images I run across, and even in my sleep. It has to mean something.
