There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. We had two bags of grass, 75 pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers … and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls.Īll this had been rounded up the night before, in a frenzy of high-speed driving all over Los Angeles County – from Topanga to Watts, we picked up everything we could get our hands on. The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab. The sporting editors had also given me $300 in cash, most of which was already spent on extremely dangerous drugs. A fashionable sporting magazine in New York had taken care of the reservations, along with this huge red Chevy convertible we’d just rented off a lot on the Sunset Strip … and I was, after all, a professional journalist so I had an obligation to cover the story, for good or ill. Press registration for the fabulous Mint 400 was already underway, and we had to get there by four to claim our soundproof suite. But there was no going back, and no time to rest. Very soon, I knew, we would both be completely twisted. It was almost noon, and we still had more than 100 miles to go. The poor bastard will see them soon enough. No point mentioning those bats, I thought.
“It’s your turn to drive.” I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Shark toward the shoulder of the highway. “What the hell are you yelling about?” he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wraparound Spanish sunglasses. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. And a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?” …” And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about 100 miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. I remember saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded maybe you should drive.
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.
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