There's a reason it's called a "trip." Take a hit of acid and twelve hours later you slowly realize you didn't "get stuck that way" and you regain your sense of composure. You feel like you've been around the world in those twelve hours, each of which seems like a month. It ages you-- not so much physically, but spiritually. You experience the universe in ways God never intended. One trip is one jog around the planet and twelve hours are one year. By that calculation, Josh was a thousand years old and had traveled across the galaxy - he'd seen it all. I guess that's why I couldn't understand his reaction. He stood there, his eyes white and unblinking, his mouth hanging open like his jaw was broken. I believe he was even shaking.

"Uhhh, Josh, this is my friend, Travis..."

Travis twitched and smiled dorkily, "Hey man!"

"Dude..."

I looked at Josh, wondering if he would ever finish his sentence.

"Do you play football?"

Travis laughed. He hated sports. "No."

He reached out his hand, which I knew from experience was cold and clammy, and shook Josh's hand. That seemed to put Josh at ease.

That was one of the things I always enjoyed about having Travis around- NOBODY- would dare fuck with you. What Nature had taken from Travis in brains and a steady nervous system, she had replaced tenfold with pure brute strength. If some macho guy was stupid enough to try to prove himself to Travis, he would easily end up with his ego crumbling on the pavement along with a couple of his teeth. It hardly ever got to that point though. Having Travis around was like carrying a loaded pistol.

Travis and I had just come from the arcade, at that time a dying relic of an era that went by all too fast. They still had Travis' favorite game, Star Wars, and I met him there to play a few rounds. It started as normally as possible, given the circumstances. I stumbled into the arcade, with my stoned, reddened eyes tearing up from laughter. Travis bounced in wearing his signature blue jeans, red-striped shirt, tube socks and high-tops. His giant, pale arms and legs twitching randomly to some Tourette's clock ticking away in his head. I can only imagine the site presented to anyone who managed to break their hypnotic video-game glaze long enough to notice: a pale skinny kid with baggy clothes hanging off of his twig-like body and a pale enormous kid who looked like he was about to burst out of his clothes in a Hulk-like rupturing.

Upon entering the arcade, we both immediately looked over at the Star Wars game. It was open! We wasted no time in purchasing some tokens and claiming the machine for ourselves. Not that anyone would have stood a chance of tying up that machine if Travis really wanted in.

"You go first, man!" Travis was already getting excited and he wanted to savor every moment. He was a heroin junkie, shaking and sweating as he held a spoonful of smack over his lit Zippo.

I tossed in my token, chose the "hard" level and played a halfway decent game. Not bad for the first one of the day, but not exactly my best. I was really stoned. After a few minutes, it was Travis' turn. Shaking, he managed to slip the token into the slot on the machine and grab the controls, shaped like that of an airplane.

"Wait!" he said to the machine. He released the controls and made a loud rushing sound. Saliva launched out of his mouth and landed on random people playing random games. I doubt they noticed. He put his thumbs and forefingers together and began outlining his body with imaginary lines of energy - the "Force," as he called it. His thoroughness was admirable. He covered every inch of his body with the Force, even hopping up on one leg to get it under his feet. When he was finished, he made a clicking sound and a motion with his hands as though he were turning a knob.

"OK!" He grabbed the controls again and selected the "hard" level. The music started up and Luke Skywalker's voice came over the speaker, "Red five standing by!"

"WAIT!" Travis suddenly ran out of the arcade and paused in the hallway. By this time everyone in the arcade had noticed his bizarre behavior. Some looked at me as if expecting me to explain it; most watched Travis as he completely and thoroughly lost his mind. He stood in the aisle just outside the arcade with one leg lifted in the air. His head was contorted in a neck-breaking direction and he had one hand raised, twitching. After a few seconds he seemed to come to his senses... somewhat, "What the fuck am I doing?"

He ran back to the Star Wars game and, once again, grabbed the controls, making a loud whooshing sound. He didn't even make it past the first screen before his game was over.

After the excitement at the arcade, I took Travis over to the station to meet the guys and start my shift. That night, I would be working the second half of the shift with Josh. I was taking over for Rick the Hick. .I knew that meant I would most likely end up tripping that night. Travis hung out a half hour or so before heading home to work on a model spaceship he was building out of discarded cardboard boxes, tubes, pieces of plastic and whatever other junk he could find. His models were astonishingly good and painstakingly detailed; his Tourette's never interrupted him while he was working on them.

It was about 8pm by the time the acid really started hitting me. The rush of cars had long been over and Josh and I were sitting around stoned for Jesus, listening to the "Magical Mystery Tour" and passing around a fifth of Jack Daniels to warm up. During the rush, it was a free-for-all; you just got the next available car when you were done with the one you were handling. But when things slowed down, we took turns.

The next car was mine, and a van pulled up. "You got a live one, dude," Josh informed me.

I looked outside from my perch on the safe that was cemented to the floor next to the door. A wave of glee washed over me - it was always kind of fun and gooey dealing with
random people while so heavily under the influence of LSD. There was a small bus sitting on the far lane. Inside the bus, there was a rather plain female driver and several rows of passengers who looked to be children, "Cool."

I opened the door and a wave of cool air came over me... or was it a wave of cool dreams? I couldn't be sure. I walked outside, my legs feeling like Jello. The islands looked larger than life, with their gleaming metal parts and glossy decals. The overhead canopy seemed to stretch into the clouds and the lights all around town were dancing up and down. Streamers of light swam dizzyingly around my head. As I approached the bus, I noticed something that was simultaneously delightful and horrific. The bus was full of mentally-challenged persons who I insensitively recognized as "retards."

I began to laugh psychotically. How could I possibly be expected to handle this
while my brain was so thoroughly frying in my skull? My mind was racing. My head filled with the cacophony of a million voices. I couldn't concentrate through the imagined sounds. I slowly got closer and closer to the bus, summoning every ounce of willpower I had to control my laughter. I couldn't help but to look up at the windows and admire those rubbery, misshapen heads leering and drooling at me. "Oh God, I'm so fucked," I thought through the intense noise in my head.

By the time I reached the driver, I had managed to control my laughter, only barely. "Yeah?" I asked, with a shaking voice. I could only form one word sentences.

"Fill it up, please," she said, smiling kindly.

I smiled back widely, though not so much out of kindness. I nodded and went to the rear of the bus to start the gas. I went back up front to do the windshield.

"Oh, you don't have to bother with that. I just had it washed..."

"OK."

Fuck. I wanted so badly to wash that window. Now I would have to go back and wait at the rear of the bus where all the retards were watching me like I was some sort of specimen in a zoo, pointing and laughing and generally getting excited. I could stay up front and strike up a conversation with the driver, but in my condition that would be insane. I walked back and a wave of excitement flowed from the window closest to me in through the rest of the bus. I knew the bus would take a lot of gas and I knew I wouldn't be able to maintain my composure for long.

I was right. After an indeterminate amount of time trading insane laughter with the retards, I grew curious and tapped on the window. The reaction inside the bus was one of pure elation. Heads flapped from side to side in a rubbery sway, ears twitched, drool flowed and howls of delight echoed in my head. All the retards jumped up and down and moved to the window I had blessed with my magic finger, pointing and giggling in a psychosis that was all too familiar to me. "Oh my fucking God!" my mind exclaimed.

A moment of inspiration hit me. I thought of Travis and began to surround the nearest retard with the Force, tracing the outline of his upper body with my hand. The retards followed the movement closely, some nearly falling over as they precisely followed my hand with their malleable heads. The dance with my hand had calmed them and so I tapped on the window again, sending another wave of elation through the bus. The retard sitting at that particular window smashed his face into the glass. His nose widened, one eye seemed placed higher on his enormous head, his teeth went in all directions and the glass was wet with drool. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Then the gas pump clicked. Playtime was over.

I walked to the driver, smiling uncontrollably. I tried to mask it as just good customer service. I was so high, I guess it worked. The driver smiled back and handed me cash, "Keep the change."

"Thanks!"

"I do need a receipt though."

"OK."

I went back inside, laughing insanely.

"Dude, what the hell is going on out there?" Josh laughed.

"I... I... I can't... I don't..." was all I could manage.

The retards had been gazing out the windows intently, wondering about my disappearance, I suppose. As I walked back out of the building they reanimated, excitedly hopping from seat to seat, laughing and howling. I took the receipt to the driver.

"They really like you!"

"Cool!" I giggled.

"Well, take care!"

"Bye!"

I walked back toward the building and paused before going inside. I turned and waved goodbye to the retards. They laughed and pointed, their gnarled teeth reflecting the canopy lights into fragmented streams. "Damn," I thought, "I'm gonna miss those crazy fuckers."

Posted by DevilMonkey at 8:25 PM

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