Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : Biography

 I don't know who I am, where I am, or what day of the year it is. There is only one thing I know, as the surge of rhythmic energy produced by the "psych-hop electronica" band, flows through every human soul in the crowd… I feel unbelievably great, I turn around to watch others dance against a backdrop of the early glow of the morning. 
     I'm on night three of "rolling" with the funky, electronic, jam-band known as Sound Tribe Sector 9 (STS9). Two friends and I had seen them play in Dallas the other night, Houston last night, and tonight in my hometown of Austin, Texas. And each night, I had rolled my face off—aka taken Ecstasy. 
     The constant flow of ecstasy, like acid, brought back other times I had rolled. It's like a euphoric recall. If I'm sober and listen to that band with headphones, I'll feel a tingling sensation in the back of my neck. If I focus on it, the feeling will wash down my spine, sending an army of goosebumps running along my arms and chest. This happened quite often after a few weeks ago, while I was at Bonnaroo Music Festival in Tennessee. That festival had also consisted of three days. Three days of drugs, debauchery, music, drugs, and lights. I didn't sleep the entire three days. The ecstasy wouldn't allow it. Everything flowed together in a beautiful dream, until the last music act of the last night… 
     During the last performance, concluding Tennessee’s enormous music festival, MDMA swam through the many rivers and streams up and down my sweaty body. Each of the three days of nonstop music, consisted of swallowing at least five capsules of MDMA, the main ingredient in ecstasy. It became a never ending, blissful dream full of love and good music. 
     Before that night, I had received a ride from two friends of mine who drove the entire way from Austin to Tennessee. When we arrived, I made the decision to stay at the festival the whole weekend and to not come back to the tiny motel room we had to share between two other people I didn't know. Five people fitting in a two bed motel room? 
     Fuck that. 
     With every room in every motel in the area being booked for the festival, I didn't have much of a choice. Besides, my buddy who drove us up said he had brought a tent. After nearly falling asleep waiting for everyone to get ready, we finally headed out to the festival grounds. 


     I had never seen so many people in one place at the same time. It seemed bigger than the Austin City Limits Music Festival that Austin had just become known for. I had gone the first year and hated it. There were too many tourists. I wouldn't have minded them—mostly Californians—had they not been the pretentious assholes they had been. We'd be trying to make our way closer to the stage, which became a nightmare; a labyrinth from Hell. Each person had been posted up in their folding chairs not willing take the mere second to move and let us through. 
     "Have you never been to a concert?!" I had to yell at most of them. 
     One of them I almost had to fight. I accidentally stepped on his shoe. He started yelling in my face about how I had scuffed his new shoe, which was a fresh, clean shoe. 
     "Why would you wear brand new shoes to an outdoor festival?!"
     It was as if he didn't understand my question when he kept on babbling about his damn shoe. We ended up exchanging a few naughty words until he had shut his mouth once he had got a look at everyone I was with. 
     Assholes. 
     They continued with the music festival in Austin every year, only without my presence in attendance. 
     
At Bonnaroo, before we saw any shows, we walked around the enormous camp-site which was a drug haven, a gigantic candy store for drug addicts. Before we took two steps, we already came across pot-filled Rice Krispie Treats. I gobbled it down in one breath. I knew it was going to be intense when it kicked in, so I needed something to level me out and wake me up; a little "pick-me-up." I told the two guys I was with I wanted to find some blow—cocaine. After I said this, a burly voice came from behind…
     "Y’all lookin’ for some of that white?" It came from a big guy in the giant green tent we had just passed. 
     "Uh, yeah I am," I said. "What? You got some?" 
     And just like that, I had two grams in my pocket. It was like that for every drug you could imagine. You could get anything you wanted in the campsite; except for one thing: nitrous oxide, aka laughing gas or whip-its. Those were strictly prohibited. There were officers riding around on horses throughout the site and if they saw you with a balloon, they'd pop it and attain you. One officer had even watched as I popped a capsule of ecstasy in my mouth, but did nothing. I did come across several nitrous tanks that were kept hidden. If you wanted one of their massive yellow balloons, you'd have to ask around. They'd never keep a tank in the same place for too long. When you found one, they were with every penny. 
     After seeing one show, my friend who drove us needed to chill out and take a nap, he said. The sun was relentless so I felt the same. When we found a spot, he then started setting up the tent. I was expecting it to at least fit two people. 
     No. 
     This was the smallest tent I'd ever seen. It was made for a single person. One skinny ass person. I became upset. Before, they had told me that they got me, meaning they would take care of me. 
     I should've known better. 
     I said, Fuck them, snorted two lines of coke, which was better than I thought it would be, and ventured off on my own. This was the kickoff to the dream ahead of me. When my life went from a black and white farm to the technicolor Oz-like wave of bliss...