When stupidity finds confidence..

I remember many times when I was younger thinking I could do anything... could fool anyone... could get away with whatever I wanted.  And most of those times I was under the influence of one thing or another.  

One beautiful September day in the early 90's, I remember trying mushrooms with several friends who were mushroom "veterans".  They had promised to walk me through the whole experience and were fully equipped with the perfect snacks an beverages for such an occasion.  So we set up our blankets and backpacks on a quiet stretch on Jones Beach and began chewing some foul-tasting fungus... with Cool-Ranch Doritos to mask the flavor.

It was a rough start.  Things started to warp pretty quickly.  Before long, I was laying flat on my back melting into the sand overwhelmed by the clouds, which were enormous and appeared to be breathing.  They were covered in an elaborate network of colorful veins that pulsed to the same rhythm as the breathing.  It was too much.  I became claustrophobic and started to panic. 

Luckily, the veterans came to my aid.  They helped sit me up, gave me some cold water and talked me through the images.  And soon I was feeling a little clearer.  This was phase two.  I was beginning to feel quite good now.  Everything was vivid and technicolor, but now I was on board and in on the whole thing.  Empowered even.  And as a matter of fact, I was ready to take a walk and interact and just enjoy my day.  Besides, I really needed to pee.  So I ventured over to the boardwalk to see what the rest of civilization was doing in their mundane, pastel little lives.

Well, the rest of civilization also had to pee.  So I waited in line.  And as I waited, I stood there thinking my profound amazing thoughts and appreciating all the brilliant details and colors that only I could see.  And then I paused to take a little pride in just how "normal" I could be in the midst of my mushroom trip.  No one would ever guess.  After all, I'm just this sweet-looking young girl at the beach.  Not freaking out or laughing uncontrollably or hyperventilating.  Well, not now anyway.  "I'm totally composed," I remember thinking with pride.

But my happy train of though was interrupted by the woman standing in line in front of me.  She had cleared her throat rather loudly and was staring at me.  What was her problem?  What was she all out of sorts about on such an spectacular day at the beach?  She looked pretty normal.  She had a pretty silk shirt on, I noticed.  And then I noticed a hand on the sleeve of her shirt.  Fingers just rubbing along the silkiness of the sleeve.  A dainty little wrist.  My friendship bracelet.... my bracelet... wait, my bracelet.  My hand.  Me.  Fondling a perfect stranger in line for the ladies room at the Jones Beach boardwalk while.

Seconds earlier, I thought I was enlightened.  Go figure.