… and I started to write this blog, got distracted, and spent 40 minutes looking at this. Wow. Then I found these photo’s, and got even less work done. Love the guy in #9, and what’s with the creeper in #25? Alone at a haunted house?
Last night, I was drinking on top of Lloyd center, about to go to a show, and somehow it reminded me of this ‘trip’ I had in Cincinnati. I haven’t thought about this in years but for some reason now it comes to me. My good friends Phil and Doug were with me and we were going to see a show or something… it kind of escapes me at the moment, but we ate a bunch of acid and were walking around downtown Cincinnati. We decide to go to the top of the Carew tower, one of the taller buildings in Cincinnati, and be high on top of it for a while. We are full on faced when we made this decision and we, probably very awkwardly, meander our silly asses through the lobby. It’s super posh and exquisite like you would expect of a downtown building’s lobby, definitely not the place for 3 assholes in dirty clothes to be just strolling about high on drugs.
I don’t remember exact details but we take the main bank of elevators to some ridiculously numbered floor like 60, or something like that. We got out at the end of the line and walk a hallway or twenty, I don’t recall, and board this really old… I mean, REALLY old, rickety, little ramshackle of a lift to take us to the roof. The inside of the elevator smelled old, it felt old on our skin, and it was covered in that horrible wood paneling from the seventies that was hot shit back then. This thing didn’t feel safe and it did not sound safe to boot. I mean this fucking elevator was bouncing on the way up, we could hear metal grinding, and it seemed as if this thing had definitely taken lives in the past. No help at all to the situation that me and my two stoned friends were in, but these two older “bros” ended up in this P.O.S. elevator with us. Totally awkward I might add because there are 5 of us belly to belly in this old death trap and three fifths of the population is high as fuck on acid. All of a sudden this elevator started going faster and faster as we went up, or so I thought. I start telling my boys that I felt like Charlie, in the elevator, in the Willy Wonky movie and I was sure we were picking up speed. At this point, I had convinced myself that we were going to smash out the top of the building and I started to get real anxious. I was sweating terribly and holding my breath, ready for the impact as we smashed into the roof. I could see that my boys were just as nervous as I was, and as all three of us are just about to lose it, the door opens and we spill out into the hallway gasping for air like we were underwater for too long. I remember seeing the two “jackoffs” look at each other like, what the fuck. They decided to abandon their mission so they didn’t have to deal with us and our condition. We gathered ourselves, tucked our wits back into our pockets and found the stairwell to the roof… “Closed due to high winds” the sign read, and for some reason it didn’t seem to matter to us. We ended up sitting in the stairwell for the next hour or so just kinda being high on acid and fucking off.
Some time later we melted back down to the lobby and out into the streets when this que of people came filing by, all carrying these wrought iron decorative fireplace screens. There was like 8 of ’em briskly walking single file to some where’s and 1 of them, a woman, trips on the curb and drops her piece. It was pretty loud against the concrete and I walked right up to her and matter of factly said, “YOU’RE FIRED”! Why? I don’t know, I was on drugs. This other guy from her group got all up in my face and started yelling at me for being an asshole. I got scared, screamed, and all three of us ran!
To think of it now, this was way before Donald Trump and The Apprentice. That slimy fuck stole, “YOU’RE FIRED”, from me.