I'm Not Funny

Why didn't some one tell me? I was looking at the blog, or glob as it has become lately, and realized it has gotten quite boring in my misguided effort to shorten my posts. No more I say! I will not sacrifice the meat of the story for a few starchy potatoes. Who cares if every person that lands here reads it, or just keeps clicking. The story must be told in its truest form or not be told at all. If you feel like reading, you are always welcome. Without further discussion...Here is a long post.

I used to do drugs. I used to do A LOT of drugs. I would do any drug, in any quantity, in any setting without fear or paranoia. It was my special talent. I did drugs in Hunter S. Thomson, William Burroughs, Jim Morrison proportions. When people who knew me met me on the street, I would occasionally hear, "what's up man? Why aren't you high?" My ultimate goal was to someday be a "veteran", as I called those guys who could name any drug by its scientific nomenclature, tell you the recommended dosage, and point you to a person in possession of said drug. That being said, this is the story of an acid trip I once had in the swamps of Florida.

I was in the Ocala National Forest in central Florida for a Rainbow Gathering. For those of you who have never experienced 'A Gathering', it is a month long gathering of hippies in a national forest. They are usually in the same place at the same time every year. The rainbows avoid money when gathered and prefer instead, a barter system. Everyone eats at communal kitchens funded by food stamps and the good will of others.

I was first introduced to the rainbows at the age of 12 or so. I was out ripping up the countryside on my dirt bike when I came across this grizzled old hippy dude wandering the gravel roads in the Shawnee National Forest near my home. He was far from a paved road, and looked like he was carrying everything he owned on his back. When asked, he told me he was looking for a gathering in the forest. He said the way was marked with bits of cloth tied to trees on the roadsides. I rode ahead and helped him find the way; but this is all another story for another day.

So......I was in the Ocala National Forest in Florida. I had traveled there with my friend, Chris, two weeks earlier. Chris had a cousin that had been attacked by a shark or some other predator. Having heard the story many times, he had developed a extreme fear of being eaten by one of the countless alligators roaming around the swamp we were camped in. Sometimes a camper could hear them rustle through the tall grass just a few yards from camp. Every day some poor clueless hippy was out calling for a dog that would never be seen again, due to becoming gator lunch. I thought it was all good fun, and Chris eventually grew tired of my taunting him. I would rub sticks across his ankle while he slept, just to see him jump awake, screaming for his life. I even put a chunk of roadkill near the door to his tent and unzipped it while he was out. He refused to go into his tent until a trusted friend, not me, went in to check for reptiles. He finally had had enough, and went home to Illinois. I was alone in the camp.

There were dozens of other camps within sight of mine; but there was no direct route to them. The swamp was made up of a patchwork of pine Forrest, and dry grass expanses that would turn into soggy swamp without notice. The only way to navigate around was on the established trail. If you got off the trails, you would end up waist deep in muck before traveling far.

One night, I was out doing my usual routine; wandering from camp to camp getting high and drinking bad herbal tea. At one camp or another, someone had fed me a good healthy dose of hallucinogenic mushrooms and a few hits of acid laced Cool-Aid to wash them down. Nothing unusual for me. Another night in the woods.

During my wandering from camp to camp, nature called. My mind not being along for the walk, I left the trail to fertilize the trees. Not wanting to advertise my position, I also turned off my flashlight. Once the job was done, I was ready to hit the trail again. My flashlight was nowhere to be found. Given what I had just dropped on the ground near me, I didn't feel around too thoroughly in my search. I figured that it was just another crutch I didn't need. Again, my mind was not along for the walk.

I headed for the path. Apparently I walked out the wrong side of the woods. My path had been hugging the treeline when I left it, but now it wasn't. I walked in a very deliberate zig-zag pattern along the edge of the woods in an effort to find the path. It was not there. I could see two dozen camp fires from where I stood, so I knew I wasn't lost. Each camp had a trail leading out of it, so logic told me that if I could make my way to a camp I would find a path.

I started out heading for the closest fire. I was close enough that I could make out people standing around in its circle of light. Almost immediately, my foot plunged into swamp muck, and I was turned around. I tried going back to the woods to follow the edge around. As I walked along the edge of the woods, it became clear that I was going away from the other camps. OK. Getting a little freaked out now. I tried to cross the grass field again. Again I was stopped by swamp.

I could here rustling noises in the distance now. I called out to one of the camps in an effort to get someone to come get me. Hearing voices yell on the wind is not a cause for concern in these woods. They just yelled back with "Yeah!" "Party!" Having no flashlight, I could not signal to them. More noises. I headed for the trees. Once at the trees, I had about 15 meters between me and the swamp. I hoped this would be far enough that I would have some warning before I was eaten.

I walked the treeline for what seemed like hours. By walking either direction, I was traveling away from the other camps. How had it come to this? I could here the alligators calling to each other now. A low frog-like rumbling, groaning noise that sometimes came from all directions. To say that I was fast approaching terror would not be stretching the truth. I could hear them closer now, moving in the grass. They were out of the water. I moved into the woods to look for safety.

The woods were composed of small pines. The biggest tree there was only six or eight inches in diameter. All were poles. They all traveled straight up, the lowest branches not less that fifteen feet above the ground. Not the best for climbing, so I just sat at the base of one for awhile. I could not focus on anything. My vision was plagued by endless starburst explosions and pinwheels spinning around my head throwing off vivid trails of color. There was no moon to light the horizon, so the lightshow in my eyeballs was not distracted by things like distance and depth. I could not see anything. My head was just as cluttered. It raced from thought to thought without even asking me if I wanted to come along for the ride. By the time I was aware of the fact that I was contemplating citrus fruit, my brain had moved right along to the physics of the Frisbee. I had no way to judge time, so it raced and stopped at the same time. I could not, with any real assurance, be sure what year it was at this time.

The noises around me were ever present. They were even closer now. I could almost make out individual footsteps as they approached. I could hear the coldblooded hiss escaping from the alligator's mouth as it crept toward me. The only place to go was up. I stood and hugged the tree, wrapping my legs around its base. I started to climb the flagpole of a tree with the intent of reaching the top and staying there till morning. As I climbed, I could feel the rough bark of the tree biting into my arms and legs. This was pain far more tolerable than the bite of reptiles, so I continued to climb. Apparently due to poor tree selection, I could not climb high enough to reach the lowest branches. After what seemed like an eternity of scraping my way up the trunk of the tree, I still hadn't reached the safety of the branches. I was well above the ground though. When I looked down, I only saw the pinwheels and fireworks.

The night lasted a century. I clung to the tree for hours, hearing the carnage unfold beneath me. During the night there had been a horrible massacre at the base of the tree. I heard what I assumed was a small deer or goat ripped to pieces by the gators. I knew it would have been me if I had not climbed above their reach. I only needed to wait till daylight and the gators would retreat back to the cover of the swamp and I could go back to my camp. Just hang on till dawn.

As the sky started to show signs of the sun, I was still clinging to life. I had been staring toward the sky for hours. Finally, it started to gather light. It lightened so slowly that I at first didn't notice the trees silhouetted against it. It was a welcome sight. My arms and legs were numb from the ordeal. I waited for more light before I would begin my decent to the ground. The last thing I wanted to do was climb right down into the mouth of a waiting alligator. As the sun lit the far eastern sky, some of its light spilled through the tree canopy. Still I waited. It took a very long time before enough light had found its way through the tree tops for me to see. As my surroundings became more and more clear, it became obvious to me that I was only ten inches off the ground. I had been right there all night, clinging to the tree for my life. I was less than a foot above the carnage I had imagined the night before. The tree beneath my arms and legs was almost stripped of bark, above me the bark was unscarred.

I released my grip on the tree and lied on the ground at it's base for a long time. I replayed they nights events in my head to get a grip on what I was seeing. As I left the safety of the trees I found the path, right where I had left it. My flashlight was still sitting at the edge of the woods, beside a pile of my crap. The dry grass between the path and the swamp was trampled and criss-crossed with my wandering footsteps. No signs of an alligator. WTF?

I went back to camp to sleep.