When I Did Drugs In The 90’s (And Early 00’s)

It was going to be my mom's birthday in a couple days and I’d decided to spend the weekend at her house with my two brothers. It was an hour and a half from Crosby, and in between was the city of Lindberg. 

WIDD happened to be playing at a skating rink in Lindberg that Friday night, and my younger brother agreed to meet me there. He’d picked up on WIDD through me, but wasn’t nearly as big a fan as I was.

I pulled into a parking lot on the east side of Lindberg and went up to the entrance of the skating rink to wait for him. Adam was nearly four years younger than me, and it was going on close to a decade since our parents had divorced. I’d stayed in Crosby with my Dad while Adam had moved with our mother back to her hometown of Reaganburg. Despite age and distance, we were still close.

I stood beneath the marquee for ten or fifteen minutes before Adam finally stepped into my peripheral. 

“Where did you come from?” I jerked my head back. 

“Inside,” he replied.

“I didn’t know you were here,” I said, “I thought we were going to meet out here.”

“We are. Nice to meet you,” Adam held his hand out and laughed. 

“Have you been here a while?” I asked.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I just wanted to see what it was like inside.”

“Lot of people?” I peered over my shoulder at the entrance.

“I didn’t make it very far,” he replied.

“Crowded?” I asked. 

“Oh ya,” he nodded. I paused to look around, taking note of the steady stream of people in and out.

“You wanna smoke?” I used my head to gesture in the direction of my station wagon.

“No thanks,” Adam answered. I wasn’t upset. I’d taken a couple hits on the way and was already higher than I wanted to be.

When we finally made it inside, I saw that Adam was right. The place was packed and it only got worse as the night went on.

A band we’d never heard of went on before WIDD, and while they sounded nothing like them, they weren’t horrible.

Adam and I stood in the middle of the crowd watching, mostly in silence.

When the first band was done with their set, Adam and I went outside so I could smoke a cigarette before WIDD came on. I’d only take a few drags when someone yelling caused me to turn to my right.

“Guy!” Gabby shouted with a big smile on her face. She was postured as if she were about to enter the skating rink, but upon spotting me, had paused. The combination of surprise at seeing her and hearing her call me a name that wasn’t mine locked me up momentarily. “Gabby!” she smiled playfully, “Remember?”

“How could I forget!” I said as my brain finally caught up. Walking away from the small group of people she was with, she threw her arms around me.

“What’s going on?” she asked, “You still doing ok?”

“Yes,” I chuckled, “I’m still in reality if that’s what you mean.”

“Are you sure?” her smile grew.

“Well, I was,” I made a face as if I were reevaluating my answer.

“Yes. That’s what I meant,” Gabby added before looking over at Adam, “Let me guess. This is your brother.”

“How’d you know?” I asked sarcastically. Adam and I bore such a strong resemblance to each other that there was little question we were related.

“You could almost be twins,” she stated.

“We hear it a lot,” I validated her observation, “This is Adam, my younger brother. Adam, this is Gabby.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Are you here to see WIDD?” she turned back to me, “Obviously.”

“I’m here to watch you win the ritual,” I replied. Gabby looked at me curiously. “I was at Creation at the Station,” I clarified, “I saw you there.” She processed my words for a moment before it dawned on her I must’ve seen her taking part in the ritual.

“Why didn’t you say hi?” she exclaimed.

“I was already on my way out,” I explained, “The people I was with were ready to leave before the ritual was even over.”

“What kind of excuse is that?” she scowled.

“Not a very good one,” I shook my head in shame.

“You’re right!” she continued. At that moment a tall thin man walked up behind her and stood over her shoulder. Following my eyes, Gabby turned around to see what had caught my attention.

“This is Crane,” she introduced us, “Crane this is Guy and his twin brother Adam.”

“We aren’t twins,” I corrected her. Gabby smiled to let me know it was a joke. 

“Hey,” Crane said, lifting his hand. 

“What’s the BR?” Gabby asked.

“BR?” I gave her a funny look.

“Bathroom Rating!” She exclaimed, “Remember?”

“Oh…,” I said once I remembered, “I haven’t checked it out yet, but let me know when you do in case I need to know.”

“If it’s below a five I’ll find you,” she said.

“I appreciate it,” I replied.

“You taking part in the ritual tonight?” she started to turn her body.

“Me?” I put my hand on my chest, “No. Not tonight. It’s packed in there.”

“Next time?” she kept moving until she was practically looking over her shoulder.

“We’ll see,” I replied. 

“Holding you to it!” she proclaimed before leaving with Crane. I watched her walk away, waiting to see if he put his arm around her or made a gesture that spoke to the nature of their relationship.

“Who was that?” Adam asked as they were about to disappear into the skating rink. Just before they entered she glanced back over in our direction and smiled.

“Her name's Gabby,” I said, “Or that’s what she says it is anyway. I’m pretty sure she took it from a WIDD song.”

“Why did she keep calling you Guy?” he asked.

“I have no idea,” I shook my head, “It’s from a WIDD song too. A different one. She wouldn’t let me tell her my real name when we met. I think it’s some kind of a game to her.”

“How do you know her?” Adam pressed.

“Petro’s cousin was having a party one night and WIDD was playing,” I explained, “I was having a bad trip and she helped me through it. I’ve seen her at a couple shows since.” 

“Ah,” he muttered, “That’s odd. About your names.”

“Ya. I’m sure if we keep running into each other she’ll eventually tell me,” I said. 

The Universities had started winding down for the spring and WIDD was playing their first show of the year.

Rachel seemed excited to finally see them and Petro’s girlfriend was accompanying us as well. I was experiencing slight anxiety over the prospect of running into Gabby, but it had been going on a year since the last time I’d spoken to her. Part of me wanted to see her, but another part of me didn’t want to have to worry about trying to temper my reaction and interaction with her in front of Rachel. She’d affected me and I still thought about her often. 

The show was at the Creation at the Station Festival in the neighboring town of Cochran, which was between Crosby and Tuttle, so I knew there was a decent chance I’d run into her.

After parking in a nearby lot, the four of us got out and approached the area where the stage was set up. 

Creation at the Station didn’t amount to much, but it was a big deal to the less than 2,000 people that lived in Cochran and had little else to do on a Saturday night. The epicenter was a defunct train station on a side road, and the stage was located in a large grassy lot to the south. The town would close down the road that ran in front of the depot off for the festival, and vendors would set up along it. In addition, there were activities and live music.

There was a sizable crowd, and as I looked around at the elderly patrons in attendance, I imagined what their reaction might be if they were still around when WIDD went on. It was unlikely that most of them had ever heard anything like them.

We’d arrived a bit ahead of the time WIDD was scheduled to play, and the girls decided to browse the vendors and talk to random people they knew while Petro and I watched a Cochran native sing and play guitar.

Eventually WIDD came out and the girls found us near the back of the crowd. The night had grown dark and there was little light in the area besides the meager set up on the small makeshift stage.

I was excited to see WIDD play again, and they kicked off with an energy that said they were excited about it as well. 

Rachel was familiar with them through me, but as far as I knew, didn’t proactively listen to them on her own. She moved along with the first several songs as if she were invested, but once they started playing some of their more melodic and theatrical arrangements, I noticed her becoming more and more disinterested and detached. Eventually it was obvious that she was entirely bored. When the tribal drums of the ritual began, everyone moved away from the stage, pushing us closer to the street. I’d talked about the ritual to Rachel on more than one occasion, but she’d either forgotten or hadn’t been paying attention, because I found myself having to explain it to her in great detail. She was intrigued and we moved closer so she could observe. About a dozen people were already in the space, moving and contorting. More would join ever so often. Rachel was visibly curious, but still had a confused look on her face. As I glanced between her and the participants, I felt a jolt of surprise overcome me as I caught a glimpse of Gabby. She was on the far side of the space dancing with a little more purpose than most others. Often someone would obstruct my view or the lights would dim, and I continued attempting to trace her movements the best I could. It took Rachel nudging me to realize how intensely I’d been gawking.

It was the first day of finals at BSCC and I knew I was in trouble.

Petro had driven up from Montagrier the night before and we’d decided to stay up late studying. My dad had a small office in downtown Crosby and we hatched a plan to hunker down there and brew a fresh pot of coffee. One pot turned into three, and before I knew it, we were in jeopardy of seeing the sun come up. In addition, we’d accomplished very little actual studying. Very little if any.

When I got back to my house, I realized I was only going to get a few hours of sleep and became concerned that my alarm clock wouldn’t wake me up. 

I had some low grade acid in the top drawer of my dresser and convinced myself that if I only took half a hit, I wouldn’t have a full blown trip, but would stay awake. 

I was wrong on both accounts. 

I sat down on the living room couch and turned the television on. My intent was to watch something until it was time to attend my first final.

The next thing I knew, however, I was waking up flat on my back with a stream of hands streaking across the front of my face.

At that point, I’d been on the verge of falling back into a relationship with the girl I’d dated throughout high school, and she’d stopped by that morning to say hello. I’d accidentally left the back door open, and after letting herself in, Rachel found me asleep on the couch. She remembered I’d told her that I had a final that morning, and began attempting to wake me up by speaking my name and waving her hand in front of my face. Eventually I opened my eyes and knew immediately what had happened.

I was tripping.

After getting dressed and making my way to class, I continued to hold out hope that I would be able to maintain my composure well enough to take the final.

It was being administered on a computer, and as soon as it kicked on, I began to panic. The letters, translucent green on a black background, were extending beyond the screen and out into the open space between us. Like a 3D movie, but more realistic. To make matters worse, every time I pushed a button, no matter how certain I was it was the right one, a different character appeared. I looked around to see if anyone else had picked up on my dilemma, but they were all focused on what was in front of them.

Once I finished the test, or rather gave up on it, I left for a small workout facility in the same building where my cross country team met for practice each day.

A condition of my scholarship was that I had to be enrolled in a fitness center class. This consisted simply of signing in at the front desk and logging a set amount of hours doing one of any given activities. It was the last day of the semester for it to be open, and I had to complete at least one hour to not fail the course. In my current condition, still tripping balls, I decided the safest bet was to find an exercise bike and just ride it out. It was a solid plan, save for the fact that every wall in the room was covered with mirrors. I couldn’t get away from anyone or anything, and every small gesture or imperfection became exaggerated.

It was one of the longest hours of my life.

When I finally finished, I went home and waited for Rachel to come back around so I could thank her for waking me up in time to get to BSCC.

Gabby was right and WIDD had indeed stopped playing out once classes resumed at the local universities.

That was until Halloween weekend. 

Petro’s fraternity at Patoka State was taking part in a massive function with three other fraternities and several bands had been booked. WIDD was one of them.

I attended my Friday cross country practice at BSCC and then headed down to Montagrier. I’d struggled to contribute or be of any value to the team, but my primary concern was still hanging out with my friends and doing recreational drugs.

I was hopeful I’d run into Gabby at the party and caught myself thinking about her often in the days leading up to it. I would run through scenarios in my head where I would ask her if we could stay in touch or convince her to give up a little more personal information, such as what her real name was or where she lived.

Complicating matters was the fact I’d been talking to a girl I’d had an on again off again relationship with throughout high school. We’d had an amicable break up leading into the previous summer but a couple run-ins around town had led to a couple phone calls. It hadn’t turned romantic again yet, but I was starting to pick up on innuendos and undertones. I wasn’t against it, but the prospect of seeing Gabby and staying in contact with her had consumed me ever since Petro told me WIDD was going to be playing in Montagrier. 

The location was near the edge of town, and as we approached the large decrepit looking building that night, I could hear the music emanating from inside. Hordes of people were descending upon it, but it was too dark for me to make out their features unless right next to them. We appeared to be in an industrial area and I wondered what this place was or how it ended up becoming the location for a collaborative gathering.

Once we got inside, there was a little more lighting, and I began to notice that a great deal of people were dressed up in halloween costumes. Some of them were elaborate while others looked like half assed attempts to at least acknowledge the holiday weekend. 

The interior of the large structure matched the exterior. It felt old and unkept, but was already filled with rambunctious party goers. WIDD was eclectic enough that there were songs in their catalog that could appeal to a diverse group of individuals, but having fallen wholly in love with not just their music, but also their facade, I thought a massive frat party was an odd crowd for them. Especially given that as far as I knew, it was their first gig in several months. When I expressed this to Petro, he said they were popular enough in the area that they were probably making a lot of money that night. He also noted that it wasn’t the first time they’d played a frat party at Patoka State. In fact, he informed me, a frat party was the first place his cousin Curtis had seen them.

Between the sheer amount of people, their costumes and how difficult it was to move around, I knew my odds of running into Gabby with little to no effort were slim to none. 

All of Petro’s frat brothers were there, and he constantly stopped to talk with them. This allowed me to wander around freely. After telling him I was going to grab a drink, I began squeezing my way through the crowd, scanning for Gabby as I went.

After making a full perimeter, I went back to the area I’d last seen Petro. He wasn’t there, but it didn’t take me long to locate him. I made my way over and stood nearby until he was done talking to the person on the other side of him.

“I thought you were going to get a drink,” Petro looked down at my empty hands. At once I realized I’d forgotten to get one. 

“I don’t know where they are,” I yelled back. Petro looked around the large space for a moment and then turned back to the person he’d been talking to. After yelling something in his ear, they pointed in a specific direction and Petro began leading us toward it.

As the night progressed, Petro picked up on my activity and demeanor, eventually calling me out. I confessed to being on the lookout for Gabby, but he didn’t make me feel awkward or give me shit about it.

It was several hours before WIDD played, and by that time I was having trouble focusing. I’d drank more than I’d intended, most likely as a result of trying to calm my nervous energy. In addition, I’d taken a few hits off of a joint shortly before WIDD came out. Once it became apparent I wasn’t going to run into Gabby, the drinks became even more frequent. 

Petro was about to return to college for the fall and I couldn’t convince him to attend the next WIDD show in Tuttle with me. It was the start of his second year at Patoka State and he wanted to spend the weekend moving in. Likewise, I was about to start my first semester at Blue Star Community College on a cross country scholarship. BSCC was only about 20 minutes across the state line, however, so I’d just be commuting from home.

My coach routinely sent letters to us throughout the summer, and one of the first had included a practice schedule he expected us to follow. We were to maintain our own conditioning, and he informed us it would be apparent on the first day of practice who had followed his directions and who hadn’t. I’d only run one time all summer, and it was barely a mile around Crosby. Petro had accompanied me on a bicycle. I wasn’t worried. Not because I shouldn’t have been, but because I’d discovered a whole new world of hallucinogens and other drugs, and that community mattered more to me.

The Family Center was connected to a Lodge that was located just off one of the main roads leading in and out of Tuttle. The road also just so happened to run all the way to Crosby. It was about a half hour drive and I made it alone.

When I pulled up to the Lodge, the parking lot was already full, so I found a spot on a nearby side street.

I felt a little awkward walking up to the venue alone, but I’d thought about Gabby nonstop since the prior show. Something about her had stayed with me. Her presence. Her demeanor. Her energy. Her smile. Nearly every time I closed my eyes, even for a moment, I saw her smile. I wanted to see it again.

Once inside The Family Center, I began looking for her. I wasn’t concerned with finding a good spot for the show, because though WIDD had quickly become my favorite band, my primary reason for being there wasn’t to see them.

From the time I arrived until the time the show started, I moved in and out of the building. If she wasn’t there yet, I was hoping to intercept her at the entrance. At some point I felt like my activity was becoming noticeable to the people hanging out around the doorway, or on either side of it, so I found a spot near the entrance where I could keep an eye on who came in and out without looking curious.

Eventually WIDD came out and the show started.

I tried to convince myself to settle in and enjoy the music but it wasn’t happening. I was there to see Gabby, and any time I turned away from the door I was afraid I’d miss her. The only time I left my spot was when the ritual began. I moved as close to the activity as I could and spent the entire length of the drum solo studying each participant. If Gabby was one of them, however, I couldn’t tell.

Once it was over, I moved back to my original location and continued to observe the movement around the entrance for several songs until I finally thought I’d caught a glimpse of her.

Practically shoving people out of my way, I took off in that direction.

She was just about to start making her way through the crowd when I reached her.

“Hey!” I yelled, gently touching her shoulder from behind. Spinning around, her face lit up as soon as she saw me.

“Hey!” she smiled and reached out for a hug, “How’s it going?”

“Good!” I replied, “You’re late.”

“Don’t even get me started,” she dropped her shoulders.

“Ok,” I put my hands up. She smiled again and looked toward the stage.

“Where’s your friend?” Gabby asked.

“Getting ready for school,” I replied, “His classes start Monday.”

“Did you come alone?” she glanced over each of my shoulders. I nodded. “What a coincidence! Me too!” she raised her eyebrows, “Are you staying for the rest of the show?” I nodded emphatically. “Come on!” she slid her arm under mine and started maneuvering her way through the crowd. We got about twenty yards from the stage and she turned to me with a large smile before becoming lost in the music.

“How many times have you seen them?” I asked Gabby once we were far enough outside the venue to hear each other. WIDD had played a handful of songs after she’d arrived and I’d noticed she seemed to know the words to the majority of them.

“Oh man,” she slowed her pace as she thought about it, “Maybe a dozen?” My ears were still ringing from the show, and that, coupled with people shouting and carrying on around us was making it hard for me to hear her.

“You wanna step over here and have a smoke?” I asked.

“Sure!” she replied. I removed two cigarettes from my pack and handed her one. “Thanks!” she received it. We walked to a nearby building on the other side of the parking lot and leaned against a wall. I lit her cigarette before mine, and we each took a deep drag.

“So you’re like a bonafide fan?” I continued.

“Of WIDD?” she asked. I nodded. “Oh ya,” she said emphatically, “How could you not be?”

“I know!” I agreed, “I’ve spent the past couple weeks getting into their music. I had no idea how good they were.”

“I don’t think many people do,” she added.

“So you follow them around?” I continued.

“When I can,” she nodded.

“So we’ll start running into each other more often?” I asked. Gabby smiled warmly.

“Maybe. They don’t play out as much when school starts from what I’m told,” she gazed off toward the last of the people exiting The Family Center, “I guess they attend different schools. As far as I know they don’t have any shows lined up after this one.”

“That sucks,” I said, “I just started getting into them.”

“I know!” she agreed, “Maybe they’ll change their mind.”

“Hopefully,” I took a drag, inhaling deeply. It was quiet for several moments as we continued watching the activity across the lot. “What are you doing now?” I broke the silence.

“Smoking a cigarette with you,” she smiled.

“I meant after that,” I clarified, “Are you meeting friends somewhere or something?” Gabby stared into my eyes as if she was trying to decide how to answer before eventually her head slowly shook. “Do you want to smoke a bowl?” I asked. Again she lingered for several seconds until a smile grew across her face and she nodded her head. She was always smiling, and anytime you didn’t think her smile could get any bigger, it did.

We finished our cigarettes and then I led her to my car.

“Do you know any good spots or do you just want to drive around?” I inquired.

“I’m okay with driving,” she answered.

“Okay,” I nodded, “I’ll just head out this side of town and cruise the backroads. Is that okay?”

“Absolutely!” she replied.

“Which one?” I grabbed several cassettes from the area in front of my gear shift and handed them to her, “I think Liquid Love’s in there right now.”

“Liquid Love’s perfect,” she placed the tapes back where I took them from, “Is it okay if I skip songs?”

“Please do,” I nodded toward it. Gabby fidgeted with the buttons on my car stereo as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. I was anxious to see which song she selected, and when she did, I found myself becoming even more affected. It was a song I had fixated on, and at the time, would’ve considered my favorite on that particular album. The title was “A Solitary Tree.” “That’s my favorite song on that album,” I informed her, “I’ve been obsessed with it.”

“Mine too,” she relayed as she softly began humming along to it.

Once we were a couple miles out of town I took the first left that looked like an infrequently traveled road and slowed my speed. After another mile or two I reached under my seat and retrieved a weathered sandwich bag that contained my weed and a pipe.

“Do you mind packing it?” I asked.

“Of course not,” she retrieved it from me. A few moments later she handed me the bag and I shoved it back under my seat. She tried handing me the pipe, but I insisted she go first.

I continued further down the rural road as we smoked and listened to WIDD, looking for somewhere to park, and potentially get out to enjoy the evening.

“Look!” I pointed out the front windshield, “It’s a sign!” Alarmed, Gabby shot forward to the edge of her seat and began scanning the darkness for whatever I was trying to draw her attention to.

“What?” she asked frantically, “What is it?”

“There!” I continued pointing, “A solitary tree!” As we drew closer to a single tree sitting at the convergence of the road we were traveling on and an unfinished lane separating two corn fields, I slowed to a stop. Gabby took it in for a moment and then placed her hand on her chest.

“That scared me to death,” she took several deep breaths, “I thought it was going to be like an alien or something.”

“A what?” I started laughing.

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed, “You said it all excitedly like it was something crazy!”

“It is crazy!” I said defensively, “It’s a solitary tree and we were just listening to that song! Is that not crazy?”

“Not the level of crazy you yelled it in!” she faced me.

“Sorry,” I apologized, “I thought it was.”

“Maybe you’re just high,” she handed me the bowl.

“I’m high as fuck,” I refused it, “but I think you are too.” Gabby thought about it for a moment and then rested the pipe on the console between us.

“I am,” she agreed and we both started laughing hysterically.

“You wanna see what’s down this lane?” I asked once we collected ourselves.

‘What if it’s a house?” she peered out my window.

“It doesn’t look like that kind of lane, but I guess it could be,” I studied it, “If it is, I guess we just turn around. I just feel like we’re supposed to.”

“Because of the tree?” she looked at me funny.

“Because of the solitary tree,” I corrected her. Gabby glanced down the lane again and then back at me before nodding her head with a smile. I smiled back and turned the car into the lane, slowly creeping between the tall thick walls of corn stalks flanking us.

“It’s kind of creepy,” Gabby noted after we’d gone about twenty yards. She was right, but I didn’t want to admit it.

“We’ll just go a little bit further,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to drive the whole length back in reverse. A couple minutes later the corn stopped and the lane opened up into a small clearing. In the middle was another lone tree.

“Oh my gosh,” Gabby placed her hand over her mouth. I stared at it for several moments with a stupid smile on my face before turning to face her. She was already facing me. “You were right!” she said, “It was a sign!”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“That we’re in the right place?” she guessed.

“Ya,” I nodded, “Ya.” We both turned back to the tree and continued staring at it. After a few moments Gabby rewound the tape and began playing the song A Solitary Tree over again from the beginning. We sat in complete silence until it was over.

“That was amazing,” she whispered.

“You wanna get out?” I asked.

“Oh hell no!” she cried, “This is like the perfect setting for a horror movie!” We both laughed again until our sides hurt.

“In the song The Laughing Lady’s hanging out behind the tree,” I noted, “Maybe she’ll impart some wisdom on us.”

“We might have to perform the ritual,” she added, “Are you prepared to do that?”

“Right now?” I asked. Gabby nodded. “Not this time,” I shook my head, “Maybe we practice and come back?”

“Yes!” she became excited.

“Alright,” I faced the tree, “It’s a deal.”

“I’m kind of dying of thirst,” she said, “I’ve got serious cotton mouth. Do you have anything to drink?”

“I don’t,” I replied, “Sorry. There was a gas station right there by The Family Center. Wanna grab a drink there?”

“Sure,” she sat up.

The clearing provided plenty of room to turn the car around and I did so with ease.

A short while later we were at the gas station.

“What do you want to do now?” I asked as I paid for our fountain drinks. Gabby took a sip and then scanned the wall behind the counter for a clock.

“Oh, I gotta get home,” she said, “I didn’t realize how late it was.” I located the clock myself and saw that she was right. It wasn’t so late we were in jeopardy of seeing the sunrise but it had moved well past midnight.

“Are you parked at The Family Center?” I glanced in the general direction of The Lodge. Gabby nodded and took another drink before heading toward the exit. I followed her outside where we stopped in front of the doors.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said, “And the other stuff.”

“I can walk you to your car,” I offered.

“I’m good,” she replied, “but thanks. Maybe we’ll run into each other again soon.” Stunned by the abrupt manner in which we were parting, I stood there speechless. I wanted to ask her if we could hang out again, or even for her number, but her demeanor had changed. Her facial expression and posture said she was ready to go. Almost urgently ready to go. Without waiting for me to find words, she reached up and gave me a hug with her free arm. “See you Guy!” she smiled.

“Bye,” I uttered as she took off across the street.

For two whole weeks I deep dived into WIDD’s catalog. They had 4 albums that had been recorded on a small indie label out of nearby Lindberg, and each one blew me away more than the previous one. I couldn't get enough. They were unlike anything I’d ever heard, and I’d deduced that were it not for their frequent profanity, unsettling descriptiveness and oftentimes unintelligible lyrics, they’d have gotten regular air time on secular radio stations. It was almost like they were intentionally sabotaging their odds of making it big.

Armed with a new and more intimate knowledge of their music, and eager to surround myself with others who “got” it, I convinced Petro to go with me to see them perform in an old building in the nearby town of Tuttle. Tuttle was quite a bit larger than Crosby, but its population was still barely over 10,000.

The place WIDD was playing at was called “Barr None,” and I’d never heard of it. From what I could gather it was an all ages venue, but not a very big one. Both turned out to be true.

As we drove past the front of the building looking for a place to park, the first thing that struck me was how long the line to get in was. It was long. The second thing was the color of the building. Painted a bright yellow, it stood in stark contrast to the rest of the historic looking downtown. Petro and I commented on both and then continued driving until we found somewhere off the main road to park. It was a good distance away, but thankfully it was a warm evening. 

When we finally got to the back of the line, we stood for what seemed like an eternity before it started moving. Once it did, it went pretty fast. The inside of Barr None was long and narrow. The stage at the far end was several feet high, and beyond the band's own equipment and gear, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of lighting. It was the same set up I’d seen at the previous WIDD show. Petro and I nudged our way through the crowd before picking a spot roughly twenty feet away from the front of the stage. The buzz was loud and you could frequently smell someone lighting up a joint or a bowl. Petro and I had smoked out on the way. 

We stood inside for about twenty minutes, floating in and out of casual conversation with each other, before the band finally came out.

After a few words, they launched into one of their high energy songs, immediately whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

I knew everything they played and was loving every minute of it.

After a dozen or so songs, the tribal drums kicked in and a hush fell over the crowd. Slowly the space directly in front of the band opened up and several people found their way into it, moving along to the rhythmic thumping. 

As the ritual progressed, more and more people joined. Petro and I stood a few people back from the edge, and I found myself trying to decide which participant was going to be deemed responsible for summoning The Laughing Lady.

“Hey,” Petro leaned over and yelled in my ear, followed by something I couldn’t hear over the music.

“What?” I moved my ear closer to his mouth.

“I think that’s your girl!” he shouted louder. Straightening back up, I looked over to see him pointing at someone in the open space. Following his finger, I strained to see who he had taken notice of, when all of a sudden I saw her. I watched for several moments, trying to get a good look at her face. She was moving with a little more purpose than the majority of the people taking part in the ritual, but due to the lighting and other dancers, I couldn’t get a lasting look. A few moments later a cheer went up from the crowd as The Laughing Lady appeared on stage and lifted her finger. Shortly after, the band’s manager made his way into the crowd and positively identified the winner. The chosen one threw their hands in the air and let out a celebratory howl before everyone resumed dancing for the remainder of the ritual. Eventually the drum solo led into an arrangement that transitioned into the same song that had followed the previous time I saw them. As it did, I struggled to keep my eyes on the girl Petro had identified. 

Once the song was over I watched her disappear into the crowd. I gave Petro a quick indicator I was going to find her and took off. 

I headed for the last place I’d seen her, but was having no luck when Petro tapped me on the shoulder and pointed toward a section of the crowd behind us. I’d just begun scanning it when he grabbed my arm and began pulling me in that direction. Petro was quite a bit taller than me so I trusted his ability to keep an eye on her movement.

Eventually we ended up near the back of the venue.

“She went outside,” Petro shouted in my ear, “You wanting to go out there?”

“Are you okay with it?” I asked.

“I’d love to have a cigarette!” he replied. I nodded and we exited the building.

There were several people outside getting air or smoking one thing or another. Petro started searching to our left and I did the same to our right. I still wasn’t positive what she looked like, beyond what little I’d discerned during the ritual that had just taken place in Barr None and a smattering of distorted images from my bad trip at Curtis’s. 

“There,” Petro leaned over my shoulder after a few seconds, “I’m pretty sure that’s her.” I was trying to decide who he was talking about when he walked past me. Apprehensively I followed until we arrived at a girl standing by herself near the corner of the building. She was gazing in the other direction and taking a drag off her cigarette when she felt our presence. Turning to face us, she stared for a moment before realizing who we were.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, “What’s up?”

“How’s it going?” Petro smiled.

“Not bad!” she maintained her friendly energy, “I’m at a WIDD show, right? How bad can it be?”

“That’s right!” Petro replied. They laughed between themselves for a couple seconds before she turned to me.

“Hey!” she said, “What about you? You look like you’re doing better than the last time I saw you!”

“Could I be doing much worse?” I asked. 

“I don’t know,” she started laughing, “I wasn’t where you were.”

“Well I don’t want to be there again,” I shook my head.

“I can understand that,” she lifted the cigarette to her lips.

“I wanted to thank you but I didn’t know how to find you,” I leaned in as WIDD started a new song inside. The sound was carrying and my ears were still ringing from the first half of the set.

“It was no problem,” she shook her head, “I’ve had plenty of rough nights too. I’m glad you got through it. How was the rest of the night?”

“Good,” I nodded, “We just drove around and listened to music.”

“Sounds like a perfect night,” she smiled.

“Ya,” I agreed. 

“Hey, I’m gonna find a bathroom,” Petro interrupted, “I’ll be right back.” I nodded and he disappeared. Pulling my pack of cigarettes out, I retrieved one and stuck it between my lips. Reaching into my other pocket for a lighter, I remembered I’d been using Petro’s. 

“Can I bum a light?” I asked. The girl smiled as she took a drag off her cigarette, causing the cherry on the end to light up her face. Once she was done inhaling, she handed it to me. I lit mine with it and gave it back.

“Thanks,” I said. She nodded and placed it back in her mouth. “I thought you should’ve won the ritual,” I stated after taking the first deep pull off of my cigarette. She studied my face for a second before allowing her smile to grow.

“Me too!” she agreed. Her smile was overwhelming. Overwhelming in a good way. It seemed to carry the joyful anticipation of every good potentiality in the world. I thought for a moment that perhaps she was on something, but it felt real. Like it was her natural demeanor. 

“Do you come to a lot of WIDD shows?” I asked.

“As many as I can!” she answered.

“Do you always take part in the ritual?” I queried.

“Not always,” she shook her head, “It depends on how I’m feeling that night.” I took her answer to mean that it depended on what she was on, and how it was affecting her.

“That makes sense,” I said. 

We stood in silence for a few moments, smoking our cigarettes, when Petro reappeared. 

“How was it?” the girl asked him. Petro stared at her, caught off guard by the question. She continued to wait for an answer with a look of anticipation on her face.

“How was my trip to the bathroom?” he finally asked.

“How was the bathroom!” she laughed.

“Oh!” Petro exclaimed, “Definitely not one of the nicest ones I’ve been in.”

“On a scale of one to ten,” she pressed.

“You want me to rate it?” he asked. She nodded emphatically. “Like a bathroom rating?” he continued. She nodded with even more vigor. Petro looked at me and laughed before giving it a couple seconds of genuine thought. “4?” he finally uttered, “Ya. I give it a BR of 4.”

“Ew,” she replied.

“Ya, but I’ve definitely seen worse,” he added.

“I guess I’ll just see how the night goes,” she said. We all laughed and Petro pulled a cigarette out of his pocket.

“Carter,” he said, holding his hand out in her direction. The girl shook it but remained silent for several seconds before responding.

“Gabby,” she finally replied.

“Nice to meet you,” Petro said. As she turned to exchange names with me, I took note of the song emanating from inside.

“Gabby as in Gabby the guardian angel?” I gestured toward the building where WIDD was singing a song about guardian angels coming out of the walls of a remote cabin in the woods. One angel in particular being named Gabby. She stared at me for a few moments like a deer caught in headlights before a guilty smile crept across her face.

“Yes!” she confirmed, “What a coincidence huh?” She waited for me to call her out, but I just playfully returned the smile. “Wait! Don’t tell me yours,” she demanded, “I’ll bet I can guess it!” I gave her a single nod and waited. “Guy!” she proclaimed after a dramatic pause, “It’s Guy isn’t it?”

“Yes! Like in Pixie Dust!” I said, referencing another WIDD song off of their Liquid Love album, “What a coincidence, huh?”

“Eerie,” she raised her eyebrows. We stood laughing subtly at each other before Petro interrupted.

“What in the hell is going on?” he interjected. Gabby and I both started laughing harder. “His name is…,” Petro started.

“Guy!” Gabby cut him off, “His name is Guy! That’s it. Nothing else.” Petro was confused, but picked up on the fact that she apparently didn’t want to know my real name. At least not at that moment. I was also fairly certain that he wasn’t aware that Gabby wasn’t her real name.

“Guy,” Petro started nodding slowly, “His name is Guy.” We all stood there staring at each other with stupid smiles on our faces before Gabby straightened her posture. 

“Well, I gotta get back inside,” she informed us, “It was good to see you guys again!”

“You too,” I said as she started walking away.

“Are you guys gonna be at The Family Center show?” Gabby stopped and turned to face us before reentering the building. Petro and I gawked at her for a moment before looking at each other. Petro shrugged his shoulders.

“Where?” I asked.

“The Family Center,” she repeated, “Here in town somewhere.”

“I didn’t know anything about it,” I shook my head.

Petro and I decided to attend the WIDD show Curtis had mentioned the previous weekend. It was part of the Braddock County Fair, which was being held in Brackenridge, a little over an hour from Crosby. We found Curtis shortly after arriving, and he was with several other people from our area. I knew most of them, but they had their own tight knit friend group, interacting primarily with each other. 

For most of the drive down, Petro had played WIDD songs, and I began to realize they were much more unique than I’d originally thought. Every song was so different from the previous one, that if you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a different band each time. They’d go from something that sounded like an a capella doo wop harmony to a punk infused barrage of aggression to a finger picked folk anthem, and on and on. I was blown away. By the time we got to the show I had a renewed interest and was anxious to hear them. This time merely high rather than tripping on acid.

Petro spent a lot of the gig talking to Curtis and his friends, but I didn’t mind. I was on a whole new journey, and for the time being, didn’t need anyone to accompany me. WIDD was more than music. WIDD was an experience. WIDD was multiple experiences. Effortlessly they replicated and created any feeling or emotion they wanted. Each song was a new one. Some of the feelings they generated felt familiar but I didn’t recognize them. It was a paradox.

Enhancing their performance was the manner in which they presented themselves. Theatrical but not detached. They interacted with the crowd, frequently making reference to things and concepts that only their loyal fans understood. And they certainly seemed to understand. Frequently WIDD would invoke extreme reactions with certain songs and phrases, but when the tribal drums of the ritual began, an immediate hush fell over the crowd and several people scurried to the space in front of the band to assume their place in summoning The Laughing Lady.

Immediately I glanced over at Curtis who was standing beside Petro. Noticing my gaze, he began shaking his head. 

One of the most challenging things some of us face in this temporary 3 dimensional plane are memories that matter when the only people we can share them with are gone.

Yes physically because of death, but also emotionally.

Some people have the ability to do that. Detach or disassociate. Move on and move forward.

I envy it, but that’s not me. Not sometimes anyway.

I could visit hundreds of places and there are still hundreds of people that were there with me that I don’t feel comfortable reaching out to and reminiscing about them with.

And that’s ok.

But it’s harsh.

Nostalgia is a cruel mistress who seduces your senses with the past and no path forward with or without her.

For some.

This isn’t meant to be a negative post.

Even if it’s the same thing you’ve seen for nearly 50 years.

Especially if it’s the same thing you’ve seen for nearly 50 years.

Even on an overcast day.

Between every cornfield are the echoes of a thousand tires.

Memories and moments.

Farmers, friends and lovers.

Every tree line, creek, silo, train track, graveyard and decaying barn.

Countless hours on backroads gaging the strength of a harvest or escaping the watchful eyes of adults.

It’s all perspective.

I love those backroads.

I love this state.