Fear And Loathing In ... Albury ?

[Guest Nozzle Boy]

We were somewhere around Shepparton on the edge of the tundra when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like 'I feel a bit light headed; maybe you should drive ...' And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred and sixty kilometres an hour with the top down to Albury. And a voice was screaming 'Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?'

Then it was quiet again. My attorney had taken his shirt off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. 'What the hell are you yelling about ?' he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wrap-around Spanish sunglasses. 'Never mind,' I said. 'It's your turn to drive.' I hit the brakes and aimed the Great Red Shark toward the shoulder of the highway. No point mentioning those bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.

Registration for the fabulous Mint 400 was already underway, and we had to get there by four to claim our sound-proof suite. Along with this huge red Chevy convertible we'd just rented off a lot on the Sunset Strip.

The others had also given me $600 in cash, most of which was already spent on extremely dangerous drugs. The trunk of the car looked like a mobile police narcotics lab. We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-coloured uppers, downers, screamers, laughers ... and also a litre of tequila, a litre of rum, a case of Victorian Bitter, a half-litre of raw ether and two dozen amyls.

The only thing that worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. Probably at the next gas station. We had sampled almost everything else, and now - yes, it was time for a long snort of ether. And then do the next hundred and sixty kilometres in a horrible, slobbering sort of spastic stupor. The only way to keep alert on ether is to do up a lot of amyls - not all at once, but steadily, just enough to maintain the focus at one hundred and forty five kilometres an hour through Shepparton.

'Speaking of serious,' I said. 'I think it's about time to get into the ether and the cocaine.'

'Forget ether,' he said. 'Let's save it for soaking down the rug in the suite. But here's this. Your half of the sunshine blotter. Just chew it up like baseball gum.'

I took the blotter and ate it. My attorney was now fumbling with the salt shaker containing the cocaine.

Shit, I'm your attorney.' He burst into wild laughter. 'You're full of acid, you fool. It'll be a goddamn miracle if we can get to the hotel and check in before you turn into a wild animal. Are you ready for that ? Checking into an Albury hotel under a phony name with intent to commit capital fraud and a head full of acid ?' He was laughing again, then he jammed his nose down toward the salt shaker, aiming the thin red roll of a $20 bill straight into what was left of the powder.

Albury was just up ahead. I could see the strip/hotel skyline looming up through the blue tundra ground-haze: the Sahara, the landmark, the Americana and the ominous Thunderbird - a cluster of grey rectangles in the distance, rising out of the trees.

The woman never blinked. 'Your room's not ready yet,' she said. 'But there's somebody looking for you.'

'No !' I shouted. 'Why ? We haven't done anything yet !' My legs felt rubbery. I gripped the desk and sagged toward her as she held out the envelope, but I refused to accept it. The woman's face was changing : swelling, pulsing ... horrible green jowls and fangs jutting out, the face of a Moray Eel ! Deadly poison ! I lunged backwards into my attorney, who gripped my arm as he reached out to take the note. 'I'll handle this,' he said to the Moray woman. 'This man has a bad heart, but I have plenty of medicine. My name is Doctor Gonzo. Prepare our suite at once. We'll be in the bar.'

I drove around to the Commercial-Club Casino and parked near the back door. 'This is the place,' I said. 'They'll never fuck with us here.'

'Where's the ether ?' said my attorney. 'This mescaline isn't working.'

I gave him the key to the trunk while I lit up the hash pipe. He came back with the ether-bottle, uncapped it, then poured some into a kleenex and mashed it under his nose, breathing heavily.

I soaked another kleenex and fouled my nose. The smell was overwhelming, even with the top down. Soon we were staggering up the stairs towards the entrance, laughing stupidly and dragging each other along, like drunks.

This is the main advantage of ether: it makes you behave like the village drunkard in some early Irish novel ... total loss of all basic motor skills: blurred vision, no balance, numb tongue - severance of all connection between the body and the brain. Which is interesting, because the brain continues to function more or less normally ... you can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way, but you can't control it.

You approach the turnstiles leading into the Commercial-Club and you know that when you get there, you have to give the man two dollars or he won't let you inside ... but when you get there, everything goes wrong: you misjudge the distance to the turnstile and slam against it, bounce off and grab hold of an old woman to keep from falling, some angry Rotarian shoves you and you think: What's happing here ? What's going on ? Then you hear yourself mumbling: 'Dogs fucked the Pope, no fault of mine. Watch out ! ... Why money ? My name is Brinks; I was born ... born ? Get sheep over side ... women and children to armored car ... orders from Captain Zeep.'

Ah, devil ether - a total body drug. The mind recoils in horror, unable to communicate with the spinal column. The hands flap crazily, unable to get money out of the pocket ... garbled laughter and hissing from the mouth ... always smiling.

Ether is the perfect drug for Albury. In this town they love a drunk. Fresh meat. So they put us through the turnstiles and turned us loose inside.