Where to start...
The summer after my senior year in high school (when I was 15/16) led to some crazy stories, and the semester after it led to even more.
2CB had just hit town HARD, and everyone I knew was looking for any excuse to take it . For two of us, the excuse was seeing a movie in a small town 20 miles from where we lived. We get into this town with an hour and a half to kill. My friend and I split a pill (of unknown dosage) up the nose while pulled over on the side of the road, and get on our way, looking for a legit place to camp out for a bit and get nice and stoned. We do so, and pull onto this crazy-looking but navigable patch of dirt "road" in my explorer with some effort. Bear in mind that it is sunset at this point.
We're coming up on the 2C-B, the burn from my nostrils through my throat is starting to fade, and the bowls are catching up to me. We look at the clock and realize we have half an hour before the movie. Just after this realization, we look around, and see what looks like a car going straight down a mountain. We keep waiting for it to turn away from us, but it continues coming, eventually passing us, and becomes recognizable as an average New Mexico backwoodser on an ATV.
Bear in mind that it is dark at this point and that my engine and lights are off.
Just as he passes by, I decide, for some reason, that it would be a good idea to leave. I turn on my engine and lights. He notices us for the first time, and gives us the strangest look, like "Why the fuck would you go here in that?", and goes on his merry way.
Turns out, psychedelics can be a little disorienting, especially in an unknown area at night.
I tried to make it out, but couldn't quite remember which way I had come in. This led me to drive through an intense ATV course in an explorer at night on drugs. I was driving through fields of cacti and other nastiness, constantly wondering how my tires were all still inflated. Eventually, I lost the ATV course, and was just driving through ghetto ass back yards. After a while of thinking we were definitely going to die, be it from flipping, hitting something, getting shot, or worse, getting arrested, I had the presence of mind to get out of the car and check out the situation. After a quick survey, I came to the conclusion that I only needed to go over the top of this hill that I, in my altered state, had assumed was a cliff on the other side. After one last heroic gasp of the engine, we crested the hill, went back onto sane roads, and saw what was probably the most enjoyable movie I have ever seen in a theater. I can't even remember what it was, but I was happy enough to be alive that I couldn't stop grinning through the whole thing.
Later on, I had just found a connect for blow that wasn't complete crap (but, in retrospect, was nowhere near the top of the totem pole), and was going through a friend he entrusted his business to while out of town. We meet him at a park during the time of the day when cars at parks aren't a beacon of sketchyness. I walk up to the car, hand him money, he hands me shit.
Right as the bag of drugs enters my hand, a cop pulls around the corner with his window down, and spotlight shining directly at the back of the hand the drugs were in.
I shove my hand into my pocket as soon as humanly possible, whip out my phone, and say "thanks, man, I really needed this". The cop drives away. We drive away. I text soon thereafter from the middle man saying "I'm never meeting at that park again".
Still later on, my older brother (18 at the time, and also fresh out of high school) was hosting one of his "beer pong socials", which consisted of him and up to twelve other people (at least 80% male) sitting in my garage, playing beer pong, eventually yelling at each other, and leaving/passing out. What was strange about this is my parents somehow slept in the same house with these activities for three months with no knowledge of them. One day, shit's getting rowdier than normal, and the vibrations could be felt through multiple walls. As I tend not to drink, especially excessive quantities of piss beer, I am the DD for one of my friends that needs a ride home. He comes to me, and says "It's time for me to go home now".
I drive him home, and, as per custom, we sit in the car at a spot next to his house and smoke a bowl. He gives me some unexpected compensation for the ride home in the form of a line. As I sniff that, we get a call from one of the girls who was at my house that night.
"Hey, people were fighting outside and the neighbors came outside"
"Huh? Who? Is everything O.K?"
"I don't know. I'm 'in the field' right now, I'll call you back"
That was the last we heard of her for a few days.
I drop my friend off, spark a cigarette, and wonder what situation I could possibly come back to at my house.
I pull up, and thank any and all willing powers for the fact that I had smoked that cigarette after the bowl. There were four cop cars parked in my driveway. I pull up to my normal spot, get out of my car, lock the door, and walk towards the nearest officer, cool as a cucumber.
"Who are you?"
"I...live...here?"
"So, you just pulled up?""
"Yup"
"You have no idea what is going on?"
"Nope"
"Well... Maybe you should talk to your parents"
Turns out, my brother got into a fight with someone over the rules of the game, and had woken up two separate houses (neither of which were my own). One neighbor came outside, asked if everyone was alright, and told them to stop. The others didn't bother and just called the cops. Upon hearing this, everyone either booked it out my back yard or into my house and kept down. My parents awoke to the sound of the cops knocking on the door.
It may make sense to note that at this point in my life I was getting felony amounts of weed fronted at a time and the people who were helping me out were at the house at the time I left (they booked it through my back yard once word was caught of possible police involvement). I had mass amounts of paraphernalia/other illegal shit in my car and house, as did everyone else in the house (including my parents, which may explain their comfortable slumber in loud times). A pipe was in plain view in one of my dealer's cars, and a quarter pound of weed was in the trunk. Another car had an unconcealed pipe
My parents answered the door and talked to the cops, and denied them entry for about half an hour. Eventually they get another call, and all disappear.
Amazingly, not one person got even a ticket for anything that happened that night. Not even one pipe got confiscated.
There's one involving over 1mg of LSD and being subjected to 12 hours of one DJ because the rest of the people who were going to play were too fucked up to go through their set. I couldn't leave because the person who was driving my car (I was tripping on the whole 3 hour ride up, which caused another can of worms when trying to find my way out in the morning) had lost my keys in a massive field. Finding them, was, at this point, futile, because this person who lost my keys has a tendency to go to what he calls "V.I.P" parties. I now know that "V.I.P" is code for way too much drugs for way too few peoples. We were at such a party.
All 40 of us were staring intently at either the sky, the fire, or one of the simple Christmas decorations around the DJ booth, all the while listening to what I have learned to call "Splat" music. No matter what genre (tech-house, DnB, Dubstep, whatever) the somewhat coherent DJ would attempt would be dominated by a subdued high hat at just the right place in each bar to completely dismantle any building tension in the song, and stopped the music from going anywhere. By hour 8, my acid-induced euphoria had faded enough to notice how badly this music was scraping against my consciousness.
I call it "splat" music because instead of a "thump", "whoosh" , "boorroo boorroo" "bwowowowow" or "dunga" the only bass that came out of the booth was similar to the sound a ball of silly putty makes when thrown against a wall. Each song was seeped in this schizoid, synthetic, paranoid, self-resolving tension. I could go into it more, but if what I've already said doesn't make sense, then I doubt I could convey what I want to mean.
Anyway, my friend and I were trying our best to find our keys in the writhing grass until the sun came up. At this point we gathered as many of our fellow party-endurers as we could and searched the whole field in a grid. Eventually we found the keys that my dealer/driver had left in a remote corner of the field. I tried to leave.
The tripping kids didn't like that. They tried to get me to stay by any means possible. I told them I wanted to go and eat. They gave me food. I told them I wanted to go and get weed and come back. They didn't trust me. I told them I wanted to get my friend from town and show him this awesome party.
Eventually, they took their hands off of my steering column and let me go under the condition that I come back with someone else from town and a big bag of ganj. They took my two favorite CD's as collateral. I never saw those CD's again.
I drove out of the mountains like a bat out of hell, sleep deprived and still tripping slightly from the night before. My good buddy from high school (and later, college) who had been catching my vibe through this whole endeavor and I yelled "FUCK SPLAT" for about half of the drive back to my (our) home town. I got back into town, dropped him off, and went home.
I said "Hi" to my parents, took a shower, and proceeded to crash out from noon that day until ten the next morning. 22 hours. My parents thought I had left the house again that night and were most surprised when I got up at 10 even though I had, to their knowledge, been gone until the wee hours of the morn'.
I like to think I'm smarter now, in regards to where I drive under the influence of which thing to get and do what.
Fuck splat. And beer pong. And ATV courses. And cops. Especially cops.