A Day Of Dougie
Acid, Retirement and Pride
October 20, 2019
It’s a wet and wonderful Sunday morning and guess what? I finally got a chance to sleep in and sleep late. Yeah, until almost 7:30 am. Yay for me. Most days, I’m up between 6:00 and 6:30, getting ready for the long day ahead, but today, I’m actually off from work at either job and all I have to do it laundry, cleaning, some writing and spend time with the Fam. And maybe try to score some man-loving, but that’s only if I get to feeling really frisky later.
Are you still here? I get to rambling sometimes and I can feel half the readers (two fo you) sighing and shaking your head and saying, “This guy is strange. Gotta dip now!”. Of course, the rest of my regular readers, the other two of you, say, “This guy is so strange, but we’ll stick around!”. I love you guys… Both of you. And now, what’s on the agenda? I’m sure you’re wondering that. Well that and how much Hillary Clinton got when she sold her soul to Satan. Guess what? Satan ain’t reponsible for that vile and evil creature. She’s too much even for him and he probably views her as competition or even worse than he is. And I’d better shut up talking about Hillary. I don’t feel like committing suicide like all of her other “friends” have done. Oh vey! Poor Bill. Now what was I saying?
Oh yeah, this is the long awaited return of the “Days of Dougie” series. This is where I reach into the Magic Bag, draw three topics that are written down on small scraps of paper inside said bag and those topics are what I write about for today. It can get pretty random at times and even I don’t know what the topic of discussion will be until I draw them from the bag. I like doing this and most people seem to like reading it and it’s a good writing exercise for me and well, the doctor told me that I was fat and needed to get more exercise so… Let’s do this.
And we reach into the bag and the topics for talking are, “Acid”, “Retirement” and “Pride”. Sounds like of like tripping balls to me, but I think I can make this work. So I’ll quit the rambling, take a swig of the Diet Dew and let’s get busy. And away we go…
Who ever thinks about retirement? That’s for old people to worry about and I’ll be honest, I never really gave it much thought until recently. My body keeps getting older, but my mind was in denial and refuses to think about the facts of the matter. I’m not young anymore and I can see the days of not working and collecting a monthly check from the government while I’m screaming at kids to “get off my lawn” rapidly approaching. Of course I always figured that if that day comes and I’m getting paid to stay away from people and be cranky and miserable, it’ll be getting a crazy check for my mental issues. “What issues?”, you ask. I work in retail and customer service and have for almost forty years… and I like it. If that ain’t freaking crazy, I don’t know what is.
But I know that one day, these wonderful days of sarcasm fake laughs and interaction with the masses will come to an end and I’ll go live in a small apartment with lots of cats and popping Gerritol on a daily basis. I’ve got slightly less than ten years to go if I do the “63” thing. Slightly longer if I have to stick it out until age 65 or age 67. But it’s not far away and then I’ll be able to devote myself entirely to my writing and this site, travel the world and sit and look out the window wondering where that paper boy is and if he’d like to come down to the basement and have a popsicle.
And the cat just talked to me and I’ve lost my train of thought. Oh vey! See, I’m getting old and forgetful already. Did I leave the oven on? Did I take my meds? Am I wearing pants? Oh vey (again). It’s a scary thought sometimes because I hate to admit to myself that I’m getting old and that one day, I’ll have to face and deal with this. It might not be so bad and I might really thrive and enjoy it to be able to actually have time (for a change) to do stuff and relax a bit. Or most likely, knowing me, I’ll just add on things and more responsibilities and be busier than ever. I just don’t know and that’s scary. It’s also life. But whatever happens, I’ll deal with it and handle things. That’s what I do. It’s still a ways down the road and I’m making plans and getting things secure and ready already so that’s a big plus. Hell, I still think that the “crazy check” will happen before the retirement check does. Whatever though. I’ll be okay. And there you go. Next topic please.
So where should I go with this one? I could do the whole “Gay Pride” since that’s probably the most obvious way to go and I am a proud, gay man. But that all plays into the identity and labels game and I don’t do that. I’m gay. I’m white. I’m a writer and a blogger. I’m a sexy beast. I’m cuddly. I’m a cat lover (most of the time). I’m a comic book nerd. I’m a wrestling fan. I am all of these and yet, no single word or label truly and totally defines me. I’m all of this and so much more and I’m proud to be all of these things, but the only way I can truly be honestly described is that “I am Doug!”. Period!
And what does any of that have to do with pride? I guess in a round-about way, it’s saying be who you are, accept who you are and don’t let anyone diminish you for being that person. Be proud! Have pride! And that’s the bottom line because I said so. And that’s enough for this topic. Let’s do Number 3…
Acid is a drug. Don’t do drugs! Just say no! But what can I say about this classic relic of a stimulant that is popular at raves and was big in the sixties and seventies? I guess a confession is in order. I’ve tried acid twice in my life. This was many years ago when I was 17 years old and slightly wild. It was what I refer to as the “Summer of 17” and like most stupid teens, if I could drink it, smoke it or swallow it, I was trying it. That’s when I discovered that my drug of choice was and will always be beer. But I had to try everything else at least twice to be sure. And acid was all a part of this experience.
The first time, it was cool. I was with two trusted friends and I didn’t know what to expect and it was just a good, experience. We talked and saw some strange shit and without going into many details, just went with the flow and while it was not something I’d want to do every day, it was fascinating and fun and I enjoyed the moment. And then there was the second (and last time). Remember the Pavilion at Myrtle Beach? It was an amusement park that was there for years, complete with a roller coaster, rides, games and lots and lots of people. Well, that’s where we were at.
That day, we (my friends and I) were drinking all day and went to the beach for the evening. And we decided, right before we went to the Pavilion. Remember, we were already drinking and had been smoking some grass too. Yes, I used to smoke pot sometimes as a kid. It stinks big time now and makes me want to puke, but then, it was a different time, different world and I liked to get high. So there we were, walking around the Pavilion. And we decided to try this acid that my freiend had gotten from someone earlier in the day. So myself and two others all put this small piece of paper on our tongues and let it dissolve. And it was on. We walked around and the main thing I remember was a woman with a tall beehive hairstyle walking by me. And she said something to me. Probably just “hi”, but I can’t remember what. And her hair started moving around and was laughing at me. And I was fascinated, amazed, laughing and scared as hell all at the same time. This woman’s hair had gone all Madusa on me and was moving around and laughing at me. And I was laughing back at it and my friend pulled me away and we walked off.
So things settled down and the next bright idea, since we’re starting to trip, is let’s get on the roller coaster. Good idea, right? Not really. It was fine at first and then, here comes Round 2. High speeds, lots of starts and stops and all that this ride entails, this was not a good idea. I didn’t scream that I remember, but I wasjust locked my hands and arms on the cart, closed my eyes and freaked, big time in my head. I knew we were going to die. The ride lasted about sixteen hours (more like five minutes, but it seemed longer) and then when it stopped, my friends literally pried my hands loose from the handle on the cart and we walked away. I wasn’t talking or saying anything making any sense. I was terrified. They led me away and we went to the car and smoked a joint to calm down and I came back to the real world shortly afterwards. By this time, Jeff (one of my friends) was tripping and was trying to wander off so we called it a night and left, going back to the trailer we were all staying at for the week. I swore then that from then on, I was beer and pot only forever. And I’m still that way, but just no pot. I like beer and liquor. Damn the rest and now you know why.
Just leave that shit alone. Just say NO!
And there you go. My thanks for reading. Any comments, thoughts or questions, just drop me a line in the comments or at Doug28352@yahoo.com and we can talk. Until the next time, stay safe and remember it’s your duty to shake your booty! Talk at you later. Love you – mean it.