Is This Crack?
One summer night I was wandering down the street toward a bar in my cutoff jeans shorts and bare feet, as always, when Fish’s car pulled up. He held his arm out the window at me, a sort of wave.
The car pulled over. I hadn’t even been looking for Kurt, yet there he was in Fish’s car again – this time in the passenger seat.
“C’mon,” Kurt said. I forgot all about the bar.
A new guy was in back. “Ed don’t bite,” Fish said, then pulled out.
We drove way out of town. We landed in a secluded spot near a lake, where the guys hopped out and popped the trunk. Inside was enough drug paraphernalia to ensure that we could all go to jail for a very long time. I never questioned it; everyone did a tab of LSD immediately.
Tripping with Kurt? Yes, please!
Fish set up a workshop of sorts in his trunk, and started making rocks out of cocaine again.
“Is this crack?” I whispered to Kurt. I’d only recently heard about crack.
He shrugged. “Freebase,” said Kurt.
“Isn’t that the same thing as crack?”
Kurt shrugged again. And that ended the conversation. They passed the pipe.
LSD and freebase cocaine was the ultimate high. Combined with the gorgeous summer night, the full moon shining on the lake, and the tunes playing at just the right volume from the car radio, I was in heaven.
The guys were jovial and chatting with one another, but I had nothing to add to their conversation. I was more interested in the trees and light trails of leaves and sparkling dots on the water.
I wandered away from the guys to explore nature more fully. About fifty yards from the car, where the guys huddled and mumbled, I caught a glimpse of a yellow dot. I walked to where I could see it more closely.
With only the stray rays from the headlights, it was hard to find – but I found it. In the dark of night, there on a leaf, was a huge yellow-and-black spider, stealthily moving amongst the branches of shrubbery. As it continued darting back and forth, I leaned in closer. With only the moonlight as my guide, I realized that the spider was spinning a web.
I’d never seen anything more spectacular in my life. I stood and watched its intricate movements, its repetitive patterns, stalking from one space to another, silky threads combining to make a glorious, completely unique structure.
Kurt wandered over with a flashlight. “What’s goin’ on?”
I pointed. Kurt aimed the flashlight and stared. “Wow,” he said. It was even more wondrous under the light, but the spider stalled.
“Cool,” said Kurt, dousing the light. He went back to the car and I could hear him raving about the spider.
Time stopped while I was entranced by the web.
Later I sat on the ground, hitting the pipe occasionally, embraced by a brand new sense of serenity. The music played; the night’s warmth soothed me.
Just before sunrise, I wandered away again – this time into a neighborhood of saltbox houses, their windows still dark, laundry flapping in the morning breeze. I walked and walked, awestruck by the tiny yards and the feeling that anyone could live there, that we were all so human, so unified by our similarities, so insistent on our differences, even in each little house.
I watched their lights flick on, one by one, spellbound.
When the car pulled up and Kurt ushered me in, I despaired. I never wanted to leave, but it was time.