Right, it was a pretty normal Saturday night for me. Back then I was about 15. I’d caught a bus to the next village to meet my friends. I’d got a fiver in my pocket and was ready to do what we always did: get enough money together to phone our dealer from the city.

He would only travel out to us for orders over £50 so we would scrounge, beg, borrow, get stuff for other people, anything we could to get the order amount.

We’d always have this pre-drug routine, getting the money together, who was gonna phone him, where would we meet, who would handle the transaction? But the excitement of it all was epic, this night was no different.

The deal had been done and we were sitting in my friends back garden looking down at 30 acid tabs, some had been ordered for other people and needed to be stashed.  Left over was one each, £1.50 for 8 hours of madness.

We always liked the different pictures, penguins, omes, bicycles, all sorts. God knows why we cared, we just wanted to get high and so we swallowed them as we had done hundreds of times before.

 

We walked down to our local school field, a regular haunt, a wide space where nobody really went other than the occasional dog walker. We sat around smoking, chatting, recounting other ‘trip’ stories, waiting for it to kick in.

At first you might notice traces from your fingers or your friends noses looking funny, sometimes you just want to laugh. Who knows how it’s going to affect you. Each trip is different, but tonight we would encounter something for the first time, group paranoia. I laugh at it now but by god it was terrifying at the time.

The fields where massive. There was 4 rugby/football pitches plus 3 red grass hockey pitches, plus the tennis courts. To one side was the high school and there where alleyways around the fields bordered by trees. Now, it was the trees that where causing us the problems. By now we where all well and truly in the grip of LSD.
We had convinced ourselves that these trees where huge groups of drunks coming to get us. Now, the only thing worse to someone on acid other than straight people are drunks, they are erratic and dangerous.

More than a few times we had taken a beating from drunks for having long hair or wearing leather jackets and I assure you LSD does not make you wanna become a fighter. Any hows, we where running back and forth around these fields like lunatics getting to the other side of the fields only to find huge groups of people coming that way too! At one point me and my friend where running at full pelt for my other friend to walk past us? What the hell? How does that work? These are things that happen when your on acid.

In reality we where probably running on the spot, who knows, maybe my mate can walk bloody fast? Hold on, yes there’s two people coming through the gate. Look! Oh God, it really was two people: they where coming right towards us. What where we doing here? What was our story?

Ok, it’s only ten. We can be here if we wanted. Thank God it was a couple we knew from school. We where all friends but they where not part of the regular group, they had a tab each at home and had decided to come and find us to share the trip and with their help we got out of the field.

Now, it was time to go back to our friend’s house. We always went back there as he had a converted garage which his mum let us use, we had two sofas and MTV and amps and guitars everywhere.

We turned a corner only to see a police car in the street. “Oh my God! Act normal”, someone said. So dutifully we all fell into single file marching down the street military style. As we got closer we realised it was only a taxi, phew that was close.

The back door flung open and out rolled a massive fat man and his friend. They looked straight at us marching down the street, to be fair, who wouldn’t. We must looked mad! PARTY PARTY he shouted, we just kept on walking heads down marching single file.

His mate joined in, who ate all the pies. Who ate all the pies? Oh Christ, they’re gonna either talk to us, beat us up or eat us, but no good was gonna come of this. Then the big guy fell over, we broke rank and ran as his mate tried to pick him up.

Then we saw a football on a garden wall. Go get the ball! Someone said, so we tried to grab it. It wouldn’t move? Someone else tried. 30 minutes we where there, had someone glued it down? Were they are watching us in fits of laughter? What was it? Oh, it was a concrete ball on the wall, you know, the decorative type! We hadn’t realised. One more corner and under the railway bridge and we would be at the safety of the garage. We wouldn’t come down until the next morning but that’s what we did every Saturday night, dodge the drunks and have mad crazy adventures. All with their own tails, some nights we would be scared witless often we would laugh until we cried in pain. Other times would end up been in a prison cell for the night and our parents called to pick us up, but that’s another story.

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This was written by a young person in Cardiff. The views expressed in it are their own and not those of Red-Button.

 

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