If you have heard it you’ll be reading it again because I Googled it and didn’t find the story.

So about fourteen years or so ago I went to R.I.T. with Sarah and Joe to visit Lindsay.  I typically don’t say names but Joe is dead, Sarah pretends I am and Lindz loves my writing and she LOVES this story.

Anywho, on this night we all decided to eat a bunch of mushrooms and smoke a lot of pot.  I don’t remember much except I do know we were piled into a car and every time we’d leave Lindsay’s house to go anywhere we crossed train tracks and Joe ALWAYS said something about us being on the wrong side of the tracks.

Everyone also got nicknames that night.  Joe’s was “Monkey Boy” and he embraced it completely.  I don’t remember mine.  All I get when I think back to that night is being alone with Lindsay and Sarah in a Perkins.  We lost Joe in the woods and found him the following morning (Pretty sure that’s how he got that nickname).  Perkins is a 24 hour restaurant and Lindsay is a chatty girl.  I know you all think I am too but I have a tendency to keep my mouth shut whenever I see a cop.  Lindsay doesn’t.  Nor does Lindsay take into consideration the fact that she’s completely wasted when she’s striking up these conversations.

You see, Lindsay wanted to be in law enforcement.  She wanted to be a Fed who did all the crazy shit.  I constantly reminded her she’d only be arresting the people who supply us with the drugs we were taking and we’d have a hearty laugh at that but we were all of twenty years old and knew someone somewhere would always be available to sell us weed.

It’s true.

Side note:  I just watched a special on The Discovery Channel and they brought up a good point.  Weed is not the gateway drug.  Alcohol is.  To that matter they sited Caffeine and Sugar as well.  I need to set in my head that sugar is illegal so I stop eating so much of it.  Knowing me I’ll just end up doing the opposite.  I’m a rebel.

Back to Perkins.  The three of us are sitting at a table Lindsay picked out right next to a bunch of cops.  Sarah’s face is stark white and I remember being nervous as hell  but I’m super spunky and cool so I was pretending to not care that we were quite possibly one sentence away from being arrested.

Thank *insert worship of choice* we’re adorable.  These guys clearly had a field day with us.  They asked fun questions like “What color is the table” and “Are you going to eat your pancake” and Lindsay answered each gleefully as Sarah stared straight ahead at me screaming “GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE” with her eyes.

We finally shut Lindsay up and I have NO IDEA how we got out of there, who drove or what time it was because I was a guest in that city but I do know that Sarah suddenly had to go to the bathroom.  Lindsay’s was broken at her house so anything major needed to be done at the Wegman’s down the road.  Didn’t matter though because Sarah couldn’t wait that long.  What happened next was a scene from one of those horrific comedies you’re repulsed by but can’t turn away from.

Pushing past us, Sarah ran to the first stall and proceeded to throw up everything she’s ever eaten since the time of her birth.  Following that she turned and ran into the second stall with her pants around her ankles (green corduroy overalls to be exact) and she starts shitting so violently we had to convince the store clerk that she was okay.  She most likely was not okay because she was also throwing up on the floor as she dropped deuces in that bathroom.

Being the loving friends we are I sat on the floor by the door and asked if she needed some bread or something.  Lindsay called a friend who was hosing a large party and had them put us on speakerphone and she put her phone on speakerphone so everyone around could hear poor Sarah’s intestines evaporating.

At one point I grabbed some Ginger Ale and a box of Saltines and went back into the bathroom.  Sarah managed to get herself up and her face washed, looked at Lindsay and gave a hearty “Fuck you” as we giggled away and then all three of us up and left as fast as we could while I yelled “I’m so sorry!” over the back of my shoulders.  Two stalls unflushed and vomit on the floor.

I like to look back at that experience as practice because I’ve been cleaning up shit and vomit for over six years now with my little men but in their case hallucinogenics are never involved (I’m assuming I’ll see that in a dozen years).  Makes me miss the good old days!

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