Acid Heroes

April 4, 2016

Searching for clues at the scene of the crime

Filed under: Backwords from Ace — Ace Backwords @ 9:14 pm
Tags: , , , ,



Generally I’m a controlled drinker. A functional drunk. As opposed to a binge drinker. Who just gets out of their fucking minds. But every now and then — maybe twice a year — I’ll get a little sloppy, a little careless. And inadvertently end up in the Oblivion Zone.

I remember one such night. I was so drunk I actually got lost walking up to my campsite. Now I’ve walked up to my campsite literally THOUSANDS of times. And can generally walk the route in my sleep. But not on this night.

I was walking along. Feeling no pain. Having a great time. When I suddenly had a realization. “Holy fuck. Where the hell am I?”  (the next day, when I retraced my steps, I realized I had made one wrong turn and walked 20 blocks in the wrong direction before I dimly realized the error of my ways, but by that time I was hopelessly lost)

So at this point its well after midnight, its dark, and I have no idea where the hell I am. I have two options at this point. I can a.) curl up on the side of the road and die. Or b.) I can continue to boldly go where no man has gone before, i. e. continue to blunder onwards.

The problem was. At every fork in the road I had four options. I could go north, south, east or west. The problem was. Only one-out-of-four of those options was the correct move. So, as any gambler will tell you, the odds were stacked against me. At one point, as I staggered onwards, I wasn’t even sure if I was still in Berkeley. I was miles off course.  And getting more lost by the minute.

At one particularly sad juncture I remember losing the battle against gravity and falling down this steep hill. (the next morning I would be perplexed by the realization that I had my shoes on. But was wearing no socks. The only thing I could figure was that the force of the fall had been such an impact that it had knocked off my shoes AND my socks. But at least I had had the where-withall to retrieve my shoes before I staggered onwards).

After several hours of blindly going around in circles I thought “Perhaps I should seek out a street sign in hopes of orientating myself.” Unfortunately most of the street names were completely unfamiliar. Finally I came across one that seemed vaguely familiar.  “Piedmont Avenue.” But when I sought out the corresponding cross-street to further nail down precisely where I was I was stunned to find out that BOTH street signs said “Piedmont.”

Now I’m in a state of complete disbelief. “How can this be? How can I be at the intersection of Piedmont and Piedmont??”  Was I hallucinating? Were the gods fucking with me for sport? It was inexplicable.

(the next day when I retraced my steps on the Google map I realized there was in fact a little alley off of Piedmont Avenue called Piedmont Alley and there really was a cross street of Piedmont and Piedmont which was reassuring that at least I hadn’t completely lost my mind)

Finally I asked somebody. “Which way to Telegraph Avenue?” And he pointed me in the right direction. So I walked two miles until I finally got back to where I had started out in the first place. And all that exercise had cut into the alcoholic content swirling around in my brain. So I was finally orientated enough to have a general understanding of where I was.

So I trudged up to my campsite, fed my goddamn feral cats and had a good nights sleep. And lived happily ever after.


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