Fear and Loathing
So I'm reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Not my type of book, as I am not, and never was, in to the drug culture. Now I'm not saying that I am a straight edge or any such. I just had some experiences dealing with other people who were on drugs that made me realize they were not for me.
1993. I was 16 years old. I stopped off at a Roy Rogers (that's a fast food restaurant for you UKers) for food after a football game and saw my friend Jami there. She was sitting at a table with another friend of hers. Jami's pupils were as big as saucers and she was chewing on a straw and clutching a roll of toilet paper. Now chewing the straw was nothing new - she was doing that in lieu of smoking cigarettes, but the toilet paper? Weird.
Me: Hey Jami. I missed you at the game - your mom was looking for you.
Her: I was on my way when the Indians started chasing me.
Me: Um, Indians?
Her: Yeah, they were on horses with tomahawks and chasing us down. We just barely managed to get away from them!
Me: Right. Ok, so what's up with the roll of toilet paper?
Her: What are you talking about?
Me: The toilet paper. That you're clutching in your hand.
Her: (looking down at hand) That's my purse.
Me: Noooo. That's a roll of toilet paper.
Her: OMG! Those Indians stole my purse!
Me: Of course they did. Just do me a favor and call your mom but spend the night elsewhere.
Her: Good idea.
Now this was a good deterrant, but nothing compared with this.
1996. I'm 19. I'm on my way to class when I spot a bunch of people laughing and pointing at some crazy guy preaching about peace. At first I laugh and keep going my way when suddenly that voice sounds familiar. "Why can't we all be peaceful? Why does my girlfriend have to be worried about walking across campus at dark?" Yup, it's my boyfriend.
I rescue him from the crowd and help him walk to class. He can barely stand, let alone walk and he basically passes out as soon as we get into the lecture hall. Good thing it was a big class, but unlucky for me to sit next to him. He stunk of unwashed body and his breath smelled like cooked broccoli (I kid you not, I still can't smell broccoli w/o thinking of it.) I had to half carry him back to his dorm after it was over.
Turns out he'd watched the Doors the night before and thought that going on a drug binge would be a good idea. He started off the evening drinking, then smoking pot, then doing some nitrous, then on to mushrooms and to top it all off, a couple of tabs of acid. Oh yeah, and during all of this, he slept with my best friend. Although I didn't learn about that until 1999 and is another fabulous story, but neither here nor there.
So here I am reading about two guys on a several day drug binge and all I can think about are these experieneces. But, and I chalk this up to how good a writer Thompson is, I'm still reading it. Now it's more like watching a train wreck. How much more can they possibly do without killing themselves or someone else?
I'm almost done, so I'll post my review tomorrow, but I thought I'd share my stories while I still remembered them.
1993. I was 16 years old. I stopped off at a Roy Rogers (that's a fast food restaurant for you UKers) for food after a football game and saw my friend Jami there. She was sitting at a table with another friend of hers. Jami's pupils were as big as saucers and she was chewing on a straw and clutching a roll of toilet paper. Now chewing the straw was nothing new - she was doing that in lieu of smoking cigarettes, but the toilet paper? Weird.
Me: Hey Jami. I missed you at the game - your mom was looking for you.
Her: I was on my way when the Indians started chasing me.
Me: Um, Indians?
Her: Yeah, they were on horses with tomahawks and chasing us down. We just barely managed to get away from them!
Me: Right. Ok, so what's up with the roll of toilet paper?
Her: What are you talking about?
Me: The toilet paper. That you're clutching in your hand.
Her: (looking down at hand) That's my purse.
Me: Noooo. That's a roll of toilet paper.
Her: OMG! Those Indians stole my purse!
Me: Of course they did. Just do me a favor and call your mom but spend the night elsewhere.
Her: Good idea.
Now this was a good deterrant, but nothing compared with this.
1996. I'm 19. I'm on my way to class when I spot a bunch of people laughing and pointing at some crazy guy preaching about peace. At first I laugh and keep going my way when suddenly that voice sounds familiar. "Why can't we all be peaceful? Why does my girlfriend have to be worried about walking across campus at dark?" Yup, it's my boyfriend.
I rescue him from the crowd and help him walk to class. He can barely stand, let alone walk and he basically passes out as soon as we get into the lecture hall. Good thing it was a big class, but unlucky for me to sit next to him. He stunk of unwashed body and his breath smelled like cooked broccoli (I kid you not, I still can't smell broccoli w/o thinking of it.) I had to half carry him back to his dorm after it was over.
Turns out he'd watched the Doors the night before and thought that going on a drug binge would be a good idea. He started off the evening drinking, then smoking pot, then doing some nitrous, then on to mushrooms and to top it all off, a couple of tabs of acid. Oh yeah, and during all of this, he slept with my best friend. Although I didn't learn about that until 1999 and is another fabulous story, but neither here nor there.
So here I am reading about two guys on a several day drug binge and all I can think about are these experieneces. But, and I chalk this up to how good a writer Thompson is, I'm still reading it. Now it's more like watching a train wreck. How much more can they possibly do without killing themselves or someone else?
I'm almost done, so I'll post my review tomorrow, but I thought I'd share my stories while I still remembered them.