Happy Spew Year

During the holidays of 1998, I ran into a string of bad luck. I lost my girlfriend, my apartment and my job in the course of two days. Feeling bummed right after Christmas, I went to St. Mark's, where I ran into a friend of mine who was home from college. He decided that we should go to San Francisco for a few days. I needed to distance myself from Denver for a while, so we left two hours later. We took the Greyhound, and the trip out lasted almost two days. I was having a hard time sleeping on the bus, and my friend suggested I take some trucker's speed to refresh myself. I did. A few hours before we reached San Francisco, my friend told me the real reason we were going there: He'd brought a few thousand dollars to buy as much ecstasy and LSD as he could to bring back to college and sell. I freaked out! I was now on a cross-country drug run!!

We arrived in San Francisco early in the morning on New Year's Eve. I was filthy, carrying a hiking backpack and hadn't slept for two days. I asked if we were gonna get a hotel, and he told me we would as soon as we made a deal. Right away, everyone considered us homeless. We sat in hobo circles while my friend asked around for dealers. We finally met one and started our dirty deal behind some trees in a park. My friend turned to me and said, "I need you to sample the acid before I buy it. I would do it, but I have to be straight for the deal." Reluctantly, I took two tabs. A half-hour later I was tripping, and my friend bought a thousand dollars' worth of acid. Now the horror began. I went through my first and last "bad trip." We walked around the city for four hours as I tripped my balls off, convinced that I was gonna end up homeless in this strange city.

Eventually, we got a dirty little hotel room and I came down enough to realize that it was New Year's Eve! We needed to go party. I had found a flier for a club in the Mission District and convinced my friend to go. We arrived around 10 p.m. and waited in line for half an hour. My friend decided he wanted to go back to the hotel. He said these people were freaking him out. I knew right then that he had taken the acid. I begged him to stay, so we went inside after paying a $20 cover. The club was filling with people. I went to the bar and got a drink. I almost lost my mind when they charged me $6 for a beer! I paid a $20 cover, for crying out loud! With California's strict smoking laws, I asked the bartender where I could smoke. She told me outside, but that I'd have to pay to get back in. Ridiculous!

"I don't understand it either," said a soft foreign voice. I looked to my right, and there was the most beautiful woman who had ever spoken to me. I shyly smiled and ran away to find my friend, but he was long gone. I stood in the corner by myself and realized what a moron I was. That woman was talking to me. I should have stayed and flirted with her. I went back to the bar and asked if I could buy her a drink. She said no. Ouch. She instead bought me a drink! We talked for a while. She told me she was a VJ for MTV Europe and was here on business and was here by herself. Right then I knew this would be my New Year's fling

We found a place to smoke. It was underneath the DJ's turntables. As we were crunched down there, she asked me if we could go somewhere and talk. Yes! We went downstairs to a part of the club that was closed off. After we talked for a while, she went upstairs to buy us a few more drinks. When she came down she handed me an ecstasy tablet. At this point, let's take a tally of my substance use: I hadn't slept in two days, had consumed trucker's speed, two hits of acid and, at that point, six beers. I didn't want the ecstasy, but I thought, "Well, if we both do it, I'm definitely gonna get some tonight!" I took it. I finished my beer and went upstairs to use the bathroom.

When I came back, another couple was sitting with my midnight kissing partner. They were passing a joint around. It came to me, and I passed. The VJ said, "Come on. Live a little. It's New Year's." So I took a few hits. I was convinced I had more drugs in my system than any man in history. My head just about shut down, but my stomach was alive with activity. I had to vomit! I excused myself and ran up the stairs. I didn't even make it to the bathroom. I kneeled next to a trash can and spent the next half-hour throwing up. Club security asked me if I was okay, and I said yeah. I had to get my head straight, wash the puke out of my mouth and get back to the VJ before midnight. Didn't happen. The security eventually kicked me out. I was too fucked up to even remember where my hotel was. So I stumbled around the corner to the alley and passed out.