Drank the Kava-Kava last night.

Stronger, really, than I thought.

mmmh. There is something ugly and stupid in my personality that is not satisfied until a brink of a lack of control is met. Much like sitting in a chair, leaning back, and catching oneself just before the fall. Whoops, that was fun. Sometimes I think I would like to be skidding towards the edge than driving safely and slowly well away from it, and given my pecadillos, would love the slow safe trip, but am driven to recklessness.

Yearning for what is not, but should be, loving what kills me.

Speaking of road trips. I got better at them as time went on.

So I sat in the Indian Casino. How had this happened? How did I get here? How many days had it been since this binge started? And why was I hitting on 17?

It was an innocent enough start. I was sitting in the apartment of my friend, Jeff, avoiding my steroid abusing roomate, and the heat of the day clamped down.

"God, I don't know how to beat this heat." he said, in between puffing on a dubee and adjusting a fan. "Its eating at me."

"I do." I said.

And we were off. Stopped at the liquor store for some beer and whiskey, I cleaned out my stash, and we were off. Off to the amusement park to ride the rides.

The amusement park was in Ohio, a mainstay of the mighty midwest, Cedar Point. Just across the border aways.

And driving fast, the heat melted away. The beer flowed.

We started a contest. Accuracy. Every beer bottle must hit its target.

Anyway.

The miles slipped by as I hustled my mustang down the road. Top speed, nothing less.

Joint after joint slipped by. It is the nature of road trips, that one doesn't necessarily have to talk the whole way.

Jeff was one of those insecure guys who just had to talk. Well, four joints going on five, even his incredible energies gave out, and he slept.

The trip there was rather uneventful. Drank my share, and we stopped at an Appleby's outside the park.

We got cheesburgers and beer. I ordered cheese stix, and we stuffed them full of magic mushrooms.

I had a reliable source for the boomers that summer. Real cheap, too.

We ate a lot, and then got back at it.

Every batch of mushrooms has its own vibe. Some groove down tight, colors flow, wonder ensues. Some have the feindish glow. Others hit like a hammer.

These were of a wicked tempermant. You didn't really know you were screwed until you tried to communicate, and then, brother were you fucked.

I got in line for the parking priveledges.

A guy handed them out with patience. I pulled up, and my sense of time was fucked. What the hell was going on that this fucker is making me wait? Fuck him...

"So c'mon." I demanded, holding out my hand, "Why wait? What's the score?"

The parking guy looked at me quizzically. Perhaps I have made a mistake.

"Ahhhh. Parking. PLEASE. Pass. Gotta' go on. What's next?" I fumbled. I felt a laughing fit coming on.

He gave me a pass for the required five bucks and waved me ahead to another parking goon who directed traffic to the left and to the right. My confusion was utter and complete.

With a wave left, I started left. Then he waved right, and I thought, 'Is that for me?' and went right. Repeating the cycle twice more in starts and stops, and I was headed straight at the doomed geek.

"Woah, hoss. Go to the left." Jeff roused himself. "And what was that back there? Why were you..." and Jeff started laughing maniacally.

"Don't know. Just pricked him out. Jesus, these shroomers climbed right on top of me."

"Right, lets park and smoke some, take the edge off." he said.

So I parked. We burned down, but the paranoia was thick. No telling what the nazi's were capable of, in this domain of children, and I didn't want to find out.

"Lets go inside." I said, and we were off.

It seemed like the Bataan death march until I got to the ticket booth. The drugs, I'm sure.

They took my money, which thankfully required no more than a grunt from me, and I was turned loose.

My mind sparkled with awe at the moving tableaux. Roller costers, booths, bells, beeps, whizzers, contests, extravaganzas...it was all quite big.

"So, what do you want to do?" Jeff was clearly taken aback. He sounded like he was standing over a corpse at a the scene of criminal violent death. A child shrieked and ran by and he flinched with a start.

"I don't know, man," I said, overcome by wonder, "Let's like, find a ride and...I don't know...ride."

And we wandered off.

A sea of faces drifted by, more interested seemingly in the parade of people, rather than the attractions themselves, as people generally are.

The shroomers climbed on tight, and we found our ride.

"How about 'the Raptor'?" Jeff asked. It was the new ride that year.

So we got in line, and I fought a laughing fit for the most part. Jeff stood stoic behind large sunglasses. The faces in the line disturbed me for the most part. Vacant and bulbous. I felt like we were cattle headed for the slaughter. A fat kid wandered by with maw agape, followed by a family in much the same manner, all looking like different model versions of the same overweight, gape jawed rube.

"Oh my god, did you see that?" I said.

"No. No I didn't, and please don't point that out to me. I'm having trouble...faces...those girls..I can't..." he trailed off, jaw locked tight, shrooms grooving wickedly down. It is the thing of the drug culture that you let that slide, you understand, and roll with it, as its all broke down into teams.

We finally got into the ride itself, which was something less than fun. It was shaped much like a taloned claw, that gripped down over you, with legs hanging out and securely belted in.

Then it took you down a track that spins one in all directions, up, down, upside down, left, right, whatever.

There was a definite separation of the physical and mental. I felt the g-forces, but knew I was safe. It was a let-down.

"That was rough, but pointless." Jeff said, "Nice ride, but it doesn't compare to the roller coaster in my brain, dude."

I concured and we looned throughout the park. At one point we got on 'the log ride', which was a water based ride. Feeling playful at one point, I started splashing people at random. I hit a family of four Ohio-ans, who didn't take my boisterous fun in stride. Tight asses.

"You! You! You there! YOUR NAME IS BAD!" the mother said.

We went on another water based ride that was disappointing. Still trying to beat the heat, so high talking was difficult, we ducked off to smoke some more to take the edge off.

It was tough to find seclusion, which we managed to do several times through the day. And every time we got one going, half-way to three quarters of the way through a fattie, we'd have to relocate, as people would suddenly come crawling out of the woodwork.

It rained briefly, and they shut the rides down. We managed to get to a roller coaster a couple of times when it opened with no wait.

But the real thrill was the last ride. 'The Magnum' made me lose my drug-addled shit.

It starts with a gigantic hill, which they claim to be the largest free standing roller coaster first hill in North America, or the world or some shit. And then they send you down that big motherfucker, and speed is an issue.

The g-forces pulled. I got the adrenaline rush.

"Holy Shit! Holy Shit! Fuck Yeah! Fuck Yeah! WOOOOOOOOOH!!!!" I shouted.

And then I looked around, and I saw a sea of ten year old faces. Cussing in front of small children. Is this what my life has become?

We decided that it wasn't getting any better, and made to go. Before we left, we called a mutual friend, Kramer, in Detroit.

He said to come on by.

So we stopped at the liquor store, stocked up on beer, fired up a spliff, and off we went.