we had to get the fuck out of this bullshit. I feel like that’s a little like our existence right now, we’ve been dragged through so many dierent doors….” I raised my hand for a moment to stop the conversation. ere was nobody else here. e whole room was empty. Empty. How long had this been the case? Where was the bartender? What? Was this happening? Had we cleared the bar? It was only nine o’clock. ere was nobody else here. Why? ey’d just le us? Were they all ghosts? When we turned around, there was Ross. “Look guys I think if you’re searching for a nice steak place you probably want to try next door, at the Caesar.” He continued in garbled words…. e sounds didn’t mean anything. I was being sucked into the life-size subway map at the end of the bar… Snaking, intravenous vines all growing out of the partitions, all ablaze and color-coded... Shake it o . Focus. “Did you guys get all the way upstairs?” Pleasant banter from a “good host,” but… he was herding us out …. Yes. We were derelicts, they’d had enough. Around the corner we followed – there was no restaurant here, just more empty booths. It felt dank and dirty, a lapse from the beaten path. Was this a closet? Where would we go from here? “Come back and you can join us,” he said, “ e fun is about to start!” What was he talking about, I couldn’t piece it together - a bar, or a fort, a temple he built? Maybe his hangout. And he wants us to come party. He thrust open the door of another telephone booth, which led straight out to the street. It was a portal. And cursed . e very sight of an unlit road, clawing at us from just beyond this asylum, was deathly tell-tale. Was it the front door? e back? How was this possible? Was this an alley? Where would we go? Was it safe? “I… gotta question for you,” I appealed to Ross, at the last second. “I have literally every answer,” he replied. I told him we were from the magazine, and wanted to take some photos. “Oh yes, I love High Times ! Come! Visit with us!” he exclaimed and led us back through the lounge area, around the bar, and then - to those glowing blue stairs. I began spotting all the camera domes on the ceiling. Ah yes. We were… on lm. is was… hard evidence. e stairs pulsed, like water through the roots of gra ti upon the walls. A depiction of huge sunglasses oated right into our path, but the other marks were quivering hieroglyphs, no,
machete slashes through the moonlit foliage of a jungle… Upward we traversed, past the words and symbols. “ Look at all this, ” he raved, “it’s all authentic. It’s not just any grati. Every single item you see here is straight from the time and place.” Time and place? Straight from Manhat- tan to the Amazon? Did the others hear that? Were the others seeing this? Up we climbed, higher, higher - the dizzy- ing levity of my own head rising in tow. I was hitting a mad peak. Right here, right now, as we spilled from the stairs, through a long cryptic tunnel, higher, right into a blinding room ablaze with orange, a funeral pyre at the top of a volcano! Hot like lava, this was the inferno. A phantasmic shimmering sea awaited us at the summit. So much shimmering. ere, at the top, was a tribe in full garb, waiting for their witchdoctor. It was a cave! A ery cavern. I struggled to focus… A gal in a radiant sequined mini skirt was dancing around on roller skates, with a huge afro bun and sparkling black and gold varsity jacket. Others were… pimps and hoes, dancing, taking seles… Mad, suspicious, drunks… All of them, waiting cer- emoniously… Was this some kind of sacrice? A ritual? ere was a long pause as the entire multitude of disoriented faces all turned – scowls, bare – and closed in around us. Savage tension building up to a frenzy of bloodlust… this crowd would churn us into brisket! ey’d been waiting . Cannibals! Maybe they’d all been looking for steak. He’d tricked us. Eye-widening, frenzied fog … What was going on here? I looked to the others but they were also frozen. e mind raced, with just enough biological re exes operating to keep the legs from collapse. Everything was happening in a blur… do we run? Where? Roped o with tra c cones and protected by a bouncer was a double-door to our right… the rest of the room, so hard to make out, illuminated only by a giant orange lamp, and multitude of mirror balls and starbursts. Was I really seeing a… hot dog stand behind the sea of velour davenports? Old, naked drink menus plastered across the back wall? Despite the aromas of delicious food, there was absolutely none in sight. Fuck, maybe we were the meal of the night. “Why are they all dressed like Eyes Wide Shut, ” Ford whimpered. “THE HOUR HAS ARRIVED!” Ross shrieked. “ is way everyone, the party's start- ing!” What was happening? e chains and orange cones next to us dropped, doors opened, and people swarmed our direction. “Don’t get
115
HIGHTIMES LOCAL ▶
Made with FlippingBook Learn more on our blog