Tomorrow is a special day for me, a private little occasion I never forget.
It was twenty-six years ago on that day that I was dosed with PCP by parties unknown.
I remember the moments just before I dropped into a coma.
I laid myself down on a concrete pedestal, apparently right in the middle of it, then I took my can of Copenhagen out of my pocket and set it on my chest, right above the heart, and crossed my hands over that.
Then I slipped into coma for four days.
I remember waking up in an ICU ward in San Francisco, disoriented and full of strange memories of the limbo world, and psychedelic visions.
If a trained firefighter hadn't been watching me from a roof nearby, I would have died right on the pedestal, from swallowing my tongue. I think he gave me CPR and called an ambulance.
He saved my life.
The cops questioned me when I came home. They wanted to know where I got the shit. My old man was there too. He and they were pretty sure I knew where it was from.
I had never heard of PCP before they sat me up in the hospital and explained how they had found it in my chew.
Someone put it there, either to entertain me or to kill me.
I never knew who or why.
The whole case caused quite an uprorar which I was unaware of until much later.
A few weeks ago, a friend told me another friend told him that he knew something about it.
The second party, who knew something about it, and may have done it, died a few years ago after being kicked in the kidneys while fighting drunk with another drunk.
If it was him, he probably meant no harm, but was just very stupid that way.
He was I guy I used to party with, sometimes all weekend, starting on friday nights when we got off work, lasting until monday afternoon when we went back.
Shots, lines, beers, tabs, anything for a good time except sleep.
Joints and beers were the equivalent of coffee to us in those days. The rest of it was a case of how much can you take?
It's like a birthday because I came back from the other side.
There was no tunnel with a light, but there was a tunnel in a tile wall with a train coming toward me and lots of broasted chicken. And guess what? You have to pay bills over there too.
It was twenty-six years ago on that day that I was dosed with PCP by parties unknown.
I remember the moments just before I dropped into a coma.
I laid myself down on a concrete pedestal, apparently right in the middle of it, then I took my can of Copenhagen out of my pocket and set it on my chest, right above the heart, and crossed my hands over that.
Then I slipped into coma for four days.
I remember waking up in an ICU ward in San Francisco, disoriented and full of strange memories of the limbo world, and psychedelic visions.
If a trained firefighter hadn't been watching me from a roof nearby, I would have died right on the pedestal, from swallowing my tongue. I think he gave me CPR and called an ambulance.
He saved my life.
The cops questioned me when I came home. They wanted to know where I got the shit. My old man was there too. He and they were pretty sure I knew where it was from.
I had never heard of PCP before they sat me up in the hospital and explained how they had found it in my chew.
Someone put it there, either to entertain me or to kill me.
I never knew who or why.
The whole case caused quite an uprorar which I was unaware of until much later.
A few weeks ago, a friend told me another friend told him that he knew something about it.
The second party, who knew something about it, and may have done it, died a few years ago after being kicked in the kidneys while fighting drunk with another drunk.
If it was him, he probably meant no harm, but was just very stupid that way.
He was I guy I used to party with, sometimes all weekend, starting on friday nights when we got off work, lasting until monday afternoon when we went back.
Shots, lines, beers, tabs, anything for a good time except sleep.
Joints and beers were the equivalent of coffee to us in those days. The rest of it was a case of how much can you take?
It's like a birthday because I came back from the other side.
There was no tunnel with a light, but there was a tunnel in a tile wall with a train coming toward me and lots of broasted chicken. And guess what? You have to pay bills over there too.