The DU Lounge

We got bags full of mushrooms and boiled 'em down into a slurry in a big stock pot. The Dead were playing at Miami Jai Alai, and we had tickets.

My best friend was in a wheelchair. We rigged a canvas wrapper around the lower frame of the chair. We filled wine bottles with the slurry, and of course, my wheelchair friend got a "courtesy check" at the door and we made it in. Of course, during the concert, as soon as you passed one joint on, two more were coming at you. I know our psilocybin slurry enhanced the concert for many Deadites. One little speed-bump: when you burped after consuming the mushroom juice, your burp tasted like cow pie.

My quote for the evening, which drew laughs: "I think I did more than I intended to."

Tripping in Berkeley in 1969, we went out driving and picked up a guy and a girl hitchhiking. They got in our car and the guy said, "You've just entered our acid trip." We burst out laughing and said, "You've just entered ours!" It became a memorable evening.

The girl lived in the projects down in Oakland; re-purposed military barracks. We started spending time together. I made enough money panhandling up on Telegraph Avenue to afford a couple of Jimi Hendrix tickets. A roommate had scored some dynamite green-bud, which was a rarity at the time. Nixon's Operation Intercept at the Mexican border had created a great dope famine, and any pot was hard to find.

Jimi was playing at Oakland Coliseum, right in sight of where my girlfriend lived. I brought down some of the green bud joints, and we were able to walk from her place over to see Jimi. My Hawaiian hippie girlfriend and her beautiful funky outfit. And Jimi.