Thankgiving Adventures
Posted: November 25th, 2004, 1:11 pm
It was the Thanksgiving of 1968. I was a student in Denton and about 10 of us lived in a big Victorian mansion sitting atop the highest hill in the county. And if it wasn't the highest hill, we knew how to make it the highest hill.
We were all students and the Hill House was a gathering place for the underground. A marathon/relay party was usually in progress.
I came back to The Hill after enduring family dinners on that Thanksgiving. The place was deserted. All the residents had left town for the holiday and were suffering the same familial and culinary abuse that I had gone through. But about sundown the refugees started trickling in.
This is the situation in which I found myself at eight o'clock on that Thanksgiving:
I had just picked up a package of contraband in Dallas. It was in a hollowed out book sent by my partner in Berkeley containing a thousand hits of LSD and a chunk of hash.
Seven refugees from family strife in Turkey Land showed up, all of them girls. A couple of them lived there and the rest were co-eds from the University who had friends living in the house.
You have to understand that this was the late sixties and profligate sex and drugs were the norm. Hedonism was in the air.
Me and seven women and a pocketful of acid. Hmmm....what to do?
I passed out the acid.
I'm not going to go into the blow-by-blow of what happened that night, but suffice it to say, I had much for which to be thankful.
We were all students and the Hill House was a gathering place for the underground. A marathon/relay party was usually in progress.
I came back to The Hill after enduring family dinners on that Thanksgiving. The place was deserted. All the residents had left town for the holiday and were suffering the same familial and culinary abuse that I had gone through. But about sundown the refugees started trickling in.
This is the situation in which I found myself at eight o'clock on that Thanksgiving:
I had just picked up a package of contraband in Dallas. It was in a hollowed out book sent by my partner in Berkeley containing a thousand hits of LSD and a chunk of hash.
Seven refugees from family strife in Turkey Land showed up, all of them girls. A couple of them lived there and the rest were co-eds from the University who had friends living in the house.
You have to understand that this was the late sixties and profligate sex and drugs were the norm. Hedonism was in the air.
Me and seven women and a pocketful of acid. Hmmm....what to do?
I passed out the acid.
I'm not going to go into the blow-by-blow of what happened that night, but suffice it to say, I had much for which to be thankful.