Posted by
Goat Sampson
• 02.29.12 09:00 am

It was around six in the morning and I was holding the steering wheel as the drummer from my old band shoveled into a dime bag of mostly cut cocaine bought an hour earlier in some ratty trailer park off Fort Myers Beach.


We were on our way to Tampa where he lived but we were to stop off in Sarasota on the way so he could meet up with friends and pawn off some acid he recently re-upped on. This kid was the worst drug dealer ever_which for druggies meant he was also the best drug dealer ever. His friends lived on campus of a liberal arts school called New College of Florida. Apparently High Times magazine ranked it the “#2 Counterculture College” six years ago. There are no grades; even if you don’t graduate you’re still considered an alumnus. I’m getting all this from Wikipedia because the students were way too high to tell me any of this.

See, I come from a working-class family, so in situations like these it’s always funny to see how out of touch with reality most of these kids are. This dirty hippie with dreads whose name was Maui or some shit wanted to buy acid from the drummer. He thought he was a badass because he knocked some guy out at a music festival before and we all know how badass festival kids are. Florida hippies never wear shirts and they always have a scraggly dog named Trips or Jerry, you know, typical hippie conformist bullshit. But he did invite us to go with his surprisingly beautiful girlfriend and her friends to a strip club later that night while he ate seaweed and something made with weed butter while I read some book on his table called the Cannabible.

Before that we went with the drummer’s friends to this 80’s dance party in the courtyard of the campus, which had free booze. It was cool but when the drinks ran dry everyone started to shuffle off to do more drugs. Out of boredom the drummer gave us two hits each of acid. That’s when the Maui kid called saying they were ready to go to the titty bar. It was one of the girls’ birthday and none of them had ever been to a strip club before. Now, I’ve never been a fan of strip clubs. I grew up poor, which means I’m cheap. I never understood throwing money away just to get teased. The drummer knew this so he threw me thirty bucks of his profits for the night.

We made our way to the girl’s dorm across this big field when a blinding light hit us from the right. The drummer started to shit himself because it was campus police and he had three sheets of LSD in his backpack along with the beers in our hand. (He also might have been on more acid than me.) I reminded him we were both over twenty-one and the alcohol was provided by some group on campus. Growing up where I did I had tons of experience dealing with real cops (being a white dude in the ghetto wins you an automatic crack search), so campus police were about as threatening as Justin Bieber. When I had run-ins with cops when younger I was like most kids, defensive—which never ended well. You have to look them in the eye with absolutely no fear, answer their questions smoothly and be so fucking sure of yourself that they have no reason to dig further. I’ve gotten pulled over while drunk. I have zero DUIs. Why? Talking to cops is going to war, confidence and being on top of your shit is everything. Even if you reek of alcohol, if you have your wits about you they only give you a field sobriety and once you pass they let you go. They questioned us; I took the lead and told them we were on our way to ride with friends to the titty bar. Your blunt honesty always hits them in the face like a smoothbore tank round. They asked for our guest passes, told us not to drive, let us go, and told us to have fun.

I had someone else’s money. I was starting to trip and was fresh off Jedi mind-fucking the boys in blue. I felt pretty good. Everything is enhanced on acid, so if you’re feeling awesome, everything is awesome2; if you feel weird, everything is weird2, etc. It was by far the best time I’ve ever had at a strip joint. We met with a huge party of people I didn’t know in the V.I.P. section and I guess one was the birthday girl. All I know was there were girls grinding on each other everywhere. At one point I ended up sitting by the stage armed with one-dollar bills and whiskey in front of the biggest, juiciest ass in the world. The girl was jiggling her ass in my face when her leg punted my glass of whiskey off the stage and it shattered into pieces. I looked around and everyone was staring at me like I just got slapped in the face. So I tapped her. She stuck her ass out for more dollars, so I leaned in and said, “Hey…you kind of kicked my drink off the stage.” She tried to play it off, “Oh, no I didn’t honey” and went back to shaking. I tapped her again, “No…you KINDA did.” That’s when a waitresses stepped in and told me she saw it and asked me what I was drinking, telling me she had done this before. The waitress then offered her up for a free lap dance. I told her I was drinking a more expensive whiskey than I actually was, took the offer, and got the most apologetic lap dance in history.

I was still tripping as we got back to the girl’s dorm and all her roommates were in the living area waiting (there was no TV because having a TV is too normal for New College.) After chatting for a while, one of them started talking to me exclusively and pointed me to her room. All of a sudden my dick was out and she was moaning way too loud it seemed. She was all about being degraded, which threw me off for a second (still being on acid and all). After I left, the hippie’s girlfriend told me about one of the other girls liking me and that’s why the other one raped me in her room and none of it made sense because girls are fucking insane (except the ones reading this, you’re perfectly normal).

We were walking back to the friend’s dorm and stumbled upon a human-sized chess game. They had a huge chessboard with big ass pieces. This was way more impressive than it sounds while intoxicated. There was some dude in a dress playing and apparently he was the campus genius and in the end the immortals were just dummies and it turned out the movie was just a movie within a movie and the alchemist told us that real life awaited. But I still couldn’t believe they turned shit into gold. Hippies be crazy y’all.

OK, that very last part (except the chess game and dude in a dress) is a joke, but everything else is true.

 

—GOAT SAMPSON

 


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Comments
  1. Brock Samson says:

    This was totally unrelatable until you wrote “except the ones reading this, you’re perfectly normal” which brought it back down to earth. I like it.

  2. Bongo Bob says:

    pretty good…

  3. tommy gun says:

    really good

  4. Anonymous says:

    really pretty bad.

  5. Anonymous says:

    An actual good story for once. The articles posted today are the best SC has had in a while (leo, board, sampson.)

  6. fast walter says:

    HOLY MOUNTAIN AHHHHHHHHHHH

  7. Paul Gay says:

    This is only about 10,000 times better than that insufferable “Paul K” poof who used to write about taking pills in Florida.

  8. kbutz says:

    what’s a smoothbore tank round?

  9. esseff says:

    maybe the third best article in the last six months

  10. Damian says:

    I agree with the ones who said it was good

  11. mother teresa says:

    Self indulgent drivel


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