For example, this morning when I put on a new pair of 6 inch inseam polo chinos that cost more than most car insurance premiums, I could literally feel centuries of white privilege and arrogance cascading over me. Honestly, I expected a Kappa girlfriend and a Fiji bid to spontaneously appear. This is a feeling I know well. It's easy for me to paint a vivid picture for you.
What is a hell of a lot harder to describe is the feeling of going to the desert and eating a fuck ton of mushrooms. It's an experience rather foreign to me, but if you'll stick with me, I'll do my best.
A plan to go to Joshua Tree was concocted at 12:30AM last weekend while standing in line for James Beach. I think my molly was just about to kick in and I was trying to convince everyone that we could just drive to Yosemite and hike half dome. (According to the over confidence there was likely cocaine involved too)
"I don't give a fuck about any lotteries. We drive up Friday night, sleep outside the park. Enter at 4am and just go climb that thing. I climbed Mt. Whitney with a permit but I didn't see a ranger the entire time. Permits are a hoax."
-We can't just drive to Yosemite and do half dome on a whim. It takes months of planning.
"Yes we can! We'll dress appropriately, bring a lot of water and then at the top we'll take a picture that will get lots of intstagram likes."
-You know people die there…
"Ya people die from drugs and drinking and driving too fast. Has that stopped us before?"
*Silence*
"Ok well how about we go to Joshua Tree?"
-Deal.
And that's how an LA mmi-trip is born.
Going to Joshua Tree is easy as shit. If you go during the busy season you have three options.
1. You can wake up at like 5am and get to one of the coveted campgrounds in the park on a first come first serve basis.
2. You can hike your shit a mile off the road and back country camp (for free) Note: Coolers do not roll well in the desert.
3. You can camp at Black rock which allows reservations and has running water.
For this particular trip we chose option 3 because I like sleeping in and I liked the idea of an actual toilet to vomit in if the shrooms didn't agree with me.
Once you have established a place to stay, you just need to steal a bunch of camping gear from a friend and stop at a grocery store in Yucca Valley for Whiskey and beer. Then you're done! You can go into the park, rock climb, trail hike or just start getting fucked up. There are no rules!
***
My roommate decided to join our quest at the last minute which was cool because she has a jeep with no doors or roof. A vape pen and a few sour patch edibles assisted us on our two hour journey east toward the desert.
We arrived and rendesvoued with the rest of our group. At the Hidden Valley campground we participated in some light bouldering/heavy scrambling. At this point we may have smoked a little too much pot, because we somehow convinced ourselves that there was a native american named EagleHawk that lived on top of a very steep rock, but if you could successfully climb to him, he would give you the strongest mushrooms in the world.
Ya, probably not a good idea to smoke and climb.
After a day in the park, we did a quick Walmart run for necessities. I think that trip went something like this…
"We need Hot Dogs, buns, firewood and ice."
-Oh and beer.
'Whiskey too!'
: Guys I think we better get a box of Franzia.
Can we get Cheez it Duos?
"Guys, I don't give a fuck what you throw in this cart, go nuts."
Cut to $200 later…
Case of Bud Light, liter of Bushmills, box of red Franzia, 24 pack of hot dogs, Jalapeño kettle chips, 3 flats firewood, 2 bags of ice, dozen donuts, 1 can chili, sriracha infused ketchup, 3 diet Rock Stars, a loaf of bread, trash bags, wet whipes, a 5 pound bag of Skittles, Mean Girls 2 and a BB gun.
"Wait a second, why the fuck did we get a box of wine?" Whatever.
I'm kidding, I put back the BB gun, but I really didn't want to.
As one does when you get back to the campground we immediately started drinking and then assessed the neighbor situation. To our right was a high school field hockey team, it was not immediately clear if this was some planned team bonding activity or a full blown lesbian orgy. There were 6 of them in one tent, so it really could have gone either way. To our left was an entire fucking Bangladeshi village.
I'm typically not a stickler for the rules, which clearly stated that there were to be no more than 6 people and 2 cars per campsite, but when you have 30 naked children running around shouting hindu catch phrases in Bengali…that can border on absurd.
So, no neighbor involvement, whatever. We had a solid group of five and we had a fat sack of magic mushrooms waiting for us.
I had never really 'done mushrooms' before. Sure I had eaten them, I had some just a couple weeks ago at a concert, but it has never really been the catalyst of my entire weekend. I would describe the time right before it as similar to when you went to your girlfriend's house in high school when her parents were out of town…
'Soooo, should we have sex now?'
-Sure.
YAAAAAAAS.
Now I had spent the week in Yahoo Answers forums (the most reliable place for advice on the internet) researching exactly how much I should take for an optimal experience. The general consensus from teenagers in Iowa seemed to be right around 1.5 grams. I was understandably thrown for a loop when I was distributed my allotment in 'caps and stems.'
Start with 2 caps and 2 stems, you can always do more.
But what is the weight? What is the difference between a cap and a stem? Peter from Dubuque didn't mention what to do if I didn't have a scale! I'm so fucked.
I ate my seemingly small portion and sat around waiting for something miraculous to happen. I continued grilling hot dogs, staring at the fire, drinking beer.
Nothing.
Clearly I hadn't taken enough.
I've been told my entire life to stop being so impatient. I've been burned a thousand times by this exact scenario. Drank too much to play catch up? Blacked out. Smoked too much before a 3d movie? Slept through it. Ate way too much molly before a show? Spent the entire concert sweating in a corner begging my heart not to explode. Learned my lesson right?
SO WHAT DO YOU THINK I DID?
A. Listened to my friends, enjoyed a few more beers while taking in the beautiful surroundings.
B. Took a small hit of marijuana to speed up the process, as recommended on reddit.com/r/shrooms
C. Taken a walk to my neighbors campground, discussed South Asian cultures and customs.
D. DEMANDED THE REST OF THE BAG AND FINISHED IT.
Well D, obviously…and a little B. I guess some A too, but mostly D.
What happened next was I noticed it was pitch black but for the stars. The stars were so bright and I felt like they were moving around. In fact the stars looked like they were little cars on a freeway driving around the sky. I stared at them for so long that I realized I was drooling on myself. I tried to snap to and then I noticed that the entire sky seemed to be an umbrella over my head, but wait a minute, no, I'm in a giant planetarium.
"Dude, Big Wave you are TRIPPING SACK."
Tripping sack? What do you mean?
"It's like tripping balls, but the word sack is way funnier."
This sent me over the edge. I fell out of a chair and started laughing hysterically.
"Omg, was that an actual ROFL? "(Pronounced roffle)
I was laughing so hard my insides were starting to cramp. The fire, the stars, the burning man Diplo set we were listening to. It was all incredible. I felt like my spirit was simultaneously occupying multiple universes.
"What time is it?"
8:30.
"Wasn't it 8:30 like 3 hours ago last time I asked?"
That was about a minute ago.
"Whoa."
I think you took too much man.
"Me too."
Now there can also be a dark side to tripping hard. At some point on a return trip from the bathroom, all 30 of the Bangladeshi children ascended on our camp. I know now that they probably thought they were just taking a short cut to their camp…at the time I thought I was under attack from the cast of Battle Royale or those creepy undead kids from Game of Thrones.
"Guys, we have to get the fuck out of here. The children are coming!!"
This was enough to spook my friends into following me. We sprinted for what felt like hours until…
"There, on the right! The abandoned tennis court, it's a safe place."
I don't know why in our warped state of mind, we all unanimously agreed that the abandoned tennis court was the best course of action, but we did. I looked back at our camp. Our fire was burning out of control. I was convinced the children were raping and pillaging the camp site. Pilfering our hot dogs, stealing out sleeping pads.
"Guys, I salvaged the Franzia."
Sarah holds up a bladder of red wine and I instantly knew everything was going to be ok.
The tennis court had rules of course too. (Everything has made up rules when you're tripping) You must not leave the tennis court. You can pee off the side of the tennis court. Every time you slap the bag and chug the wine, you must run a lap around the tennis court. For whatever reason I made the choice to only navigate the tennis court via army crawl and various body rolls. I imagine to the outside viewer I looked like a Jurassic Period Neanderthal. Drugs will do that to a person.
At some junction in the evening we were all seated next to each other talking, laughing, celebrating life. Out of the corner of my eye, I see some sort of authority figure speeding toward us on a golf cart.
"Oh no, he knows we're tripping sack. At the very least there has been a noise complaint and we are getting booted. GAH, I can't possibly drive right now."
As the ranger came closer and closer I started to notice he wasn't slowing down. My God is he going to bowl us over?
He flies past us and pulls right up to the Bangladeshi village, as do three more rangers/border patrol officers in golf carts. It was a god damn sting operation. I watch from the distance as our neighbors were read the riot act. Apparently the 6 people per site rule is something they take pretty seriously at Joshua Tree National Park. The hero rangers rolled up like Jon Snow to dispatch of the impromptu Khan family reunion and we were safe to return to camp.
We left the safety of our tennis court (which was really only about 25 feet from our camp site, so much for all that sprinting) and it was almost time to turn in for the night. As I was getting into my sleeping bag, my roommate grabs me.
"I need to show you something, come with me."
We jog 30 feet or so up a small hill onto a picnic table.
"The moon came out."
It did indeed and it was bigger than I had ever seen, illuminating the desert for dozens of miles in every direction. And at that very moment, it only felt right to howl. I heard a few coyotes in the distance echoing my sentiment.
***
Packing up the next morning, I see one of the field hockey players at the dumpster.
Me: "Did you guys have a nice night?"
Her: "We come out here to smoke weed and not get in trouble. Our parents just think we're super outdoorsy. Last night we smoked too much and went to bed early."
Me: "Ya we were a little inebriated."
Her: "Are you kidding me? You guys were SACKED. Between you and that daycare center next door, we're lucky we smoked enough to kill an elephant or sleeping would have been impossible."
Me: What does sacked mean?
Her: You know, like drunk as balls…
Me: "Is this a common phrase that people use?"
Her: "I dunno, but you guys are going to have a lot of fun driving back to LA in that jeep."
Yes of course, it rains one day a year in the desert and it's the day I drive out in a jeep with no roof or doors. I spent the entire drive back hungover, crying, trying to figure out a way to connect the sleeves of my sweater directly to the Jeep's heating vent.
Driving 50 up the PCH in a stripped down Jeep is enjoyable.
Driving 90 on the 10 in a torrential downpour is how people contract pneumonia.
We stopped for a corned beef hash at the Crossroads Cafe on our way out of town and I realized how incredible Los Angeles really is. Two hours east, I'm in the desert. 2 hours west and I'm at the fucking Catalina Wine Mixer. 2 hours north, wine country. 2 hours northeast, I'm skiing. 2 hours south I'm partying in Gaslamp. It's really unbelievable that so many adventures are seemingly so attainable. It almost makes me feel guilty for being so content to booze in Venice and stumble over to a divey beach bar.
We made it back to LA. My fucking cable was out, so I just laid on the couch watching my fantasy football live scoring. I took a xanax and passed out for a few hours. I woke up at 2 in the morning, sad that I would have to be at work in a few hours. Before I moved to my bedroom, I checked my email.
-CRSSD fest this weekend in San Diego? Kygo Headlining.
Fuck ya, let's do it.
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