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Non-subject: "a certain time"
I've been thinking of writing something about my dance with jimson weed. Now would be a good time. Carol, not many people have experienced jimson weed. You aren't trying to be special. You are special; so is the next person beside you. Each person has a story. This is yours.
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October, 1974. The Tuesday before the high school homecoming game on Friday. I was supposed to work at the hospital, my job in food services. There was a banquet for some doctors and I was assigned to help wait tables. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I swallowed the seeds. I mean, I had to be a work in a few hours. Maybe I thought I'd get just a little high, a small trip, and trip around waiting on tables. After all, I wasn't a novice tripper. I'd have something funny to tell my friends later.
Ron, my boyfriend, sat behind the driver's wheel of his green Hornet. I was in the passenger's seat beside him. We cracked open about 6 pods. We each ate around 3 podfuls of seeds; I think it was around that many. One of the pods contained some black seeds. Ron swallowed the black ones, in case they were a bit more potent. He figured they may have gotten frost bite before I harvested the pods. Ron was much larger than I. I weighed in around 90 pounds; Ron at 200. His nickname was Fatman. I was 15 and Ron was 17, or almost 17.
Ron was a dealer and we were never in short supply of mind-altering substances. I was a willing guinea pig to expand my consciousness. This time was different though; I had supplied the potion. I must have collected the plants about a week or 2 before that Tuesday. After picking them I displayed them in a vase in my bedroom, on my dresser. Stems, standing about 10 inches tall and on the ends of the stems drooped spiky pods. Jimson weed or devil's weed. The Latin name is datura stramonium. They grew in the pasture behind my family's house.
Ron and I were parked in the woods off of a dirt road. A regular spot we frequented to get high. I don't recall how long it was after swallowing the seeds that I began to feel some effect. I looked over at Ron. He had that look on his face whenever we were experimenting with hallucinogens. It was almost childlike, a little boy waiting in line for the Ferris wheel with great anticipation, excitement, and just enough fear to make the ride fun.
I had to pee. I looked at Ron and with slurred speech said, "I got ta go ...to ... thu...baath.. room." He just kept staring at that Ferris wheel.
I opened the car door and got out.
"I don't .... have any kneeeess..." I giggled. I grabbed hold of the top of the car door to catch my balance. Once I was stable, I staggered off into the woods. As I squat down I looked around me. There were 100's if not 1000's of blackbirds. They were everywhere, everywhere. I'd never seen that many blackbirds. I recall thinking, "How ...ooodd. Hm. Black....birds." I began to sing in a hushed whisper, "Black bird singing in the dead of night..take these broken wings and learn to fly...." I seemed to be able to sing more easily than speak.
I stumbled back to the car.
I'm not sure how he did it, but somehow Ron drove the 30 minutes to my house. Somehow through those winding country North Carolina foothill roads. I have no remembrance of the ride home. We got to my house around 4:30 in the afternoon.
Dad was home. That was strange; usually he was still at work this time of day. Ron and I staggered inside and sat on the living room couch. Dad must not have heard us; he was in the back of the house.
Ron and I just sat there, stupored. I slurred, "I'm slee..py. I'm gon..na go lay down." I made my way to the hardwood stairs to go up to my bedroom. Ron watched me from the couch, probably still with his boyhood stare.
I made it partway up the steps and then tumbled backwards. Ron later told me that my father came running from the back of the house to see what the commotion was. My father looked at me crumpled in a heap on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. His gaze then turned to Ron on the couch. Dad glared at Ron like he was going to kill him.
Ron got up and walked out the front door.
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The sequel to this piece is Witch Doctors and Roller Coasters.
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