Seattle `69
The next morning, Dave and I wasted no time putting distance between
the God's house and us. As we traveled north, Oregon's beautiful
mountains turned into the rugged Washington terrain of virgin
evergreens. About seventy miles out of Seattle we met a cat who went
along with us for a couple of short rides. He was going to Seattle,
but not before he had toured the Olympia Brewing Company. He was a
nice guy; before he said good-by, he laid two hits of Owsley acid on
us. The acid culture started with the chemist, Owsley. He had mixed
some chemicals up in his bathtub and LSD was born. We dropped the
acid right away because both Dave and I had heard horror stories
about the pigs in Washington. Besides, neither one of us could wait
to try the stuff.
The road into Seattle went straight through a large mountain. Over
the entrance of the tunnel the sign read, "Welcome to Seattle." The
acid started coming on just as we hit the tunnel. What a welcome!
Once in the city, we found amazing things to trip off of. There was
the giant space needle, and high above the city streets, the Seattle
monorail zoomed. These wonders of engineering were left over from
the World's Fair. The afternoon ended up with Dave and I sitting on
the greenest, softest, grass imaginable, overlooking a fountain so
fantastic that even after the acid began wearing off, we just sat
there mesmerized. The fountain consisted of inner and outer
waterspouts, and the water action was choreographed to music piped
over a good sound system.
It was almost dark when we decided to try and find Dave's brother.
We were supposed to meet him at the university, but we had some
trouble getting there. Our first set of directions put us on the
wrong bus and, following new directions, the driver of the next bus
took one look at us and said, "Not on my bus," and shut the door in
our faces, leaving us stranded on the street. Washington State was
not what you would call the friendliest!
The overall atmosphere in Seattle however, was more laid back than
it was in L.A. For instance, among the university hippie population,
dope flowed freely and openly, and you could actually stand around
in a group without worrying about getting hassled by the pigs. I was
told that if you were on university property, the only people who
could bust you were university pigs, and they were few and far
between. I didn't know if that was true, but judging from the number
of people I witnessed smoking dope, something must have been going
on.
We were waiting for Dave's brother (he was delayed), when Dave went
off to tour the campus. I found a spot on a cement wall, next to the
sidewalk, to read my book. As I was sitting there, I heard a noise
behind me and as I turned, I could see a person in the bushes
hopping back and forth on all fours. I've met some flipped out
people before, but the freak I met in Seattle had to rate high on
the list. I paid little attention to him until he came hopping over
to where I was sitting. I said, "Hello," but he didn't respond.
Instead, he perched himself over my shoulder as I continued to read
my book. I finally said, in a stern voice, "Can I help you?" I
obviously frightened him, because he scampered back into the bushes
where I eventually lost sight of him. He was probably strung out on
speed. That is the only drug I know of that can flip a person out
like that.
When Dave returned we went to a sandwich shop where I bought a
couple of subs. It was kind of a last fling, since, once Dave's
brother arrived, Dave would no longer depend on me for money. As a
sort of quid pro quo, I was looking forward to a couple restful days
at Dave's brother's place. The girl behind the counter was friendly.
When I told her about my taking the boat to Canada she totally
surprised me by offering me a place to stay when I returned from
Canada. I was very thankful, and made sure she knew it.
When Dave's brother finally arrived, the first words out of his
mouth, after looking at me, were, "You can stay, but he (meaning the
degenerate hippie standing next to you) will have to go." Such
graciousness, such hospitality, I was dumbfounded! Dave, in an
almost whiny voice, responded, "But I've already promised him a
place to sleep, at least for tonight." After a long silence, Dave's
brother consented. I thought to myself, as I began to feel my
stomach knot up, "Well, at least I salvaged one night's sleep. That
will get me to Canada tomorrow." As it turned out, I was wrong on
both counts.
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