Story #5 Hippy Flop

A father of two, the faithful husband of one, walks through the lonely streets of his neighborhood. Jim had tucked daughters into bed two hours earlier, wishing them a restful night of sleep, before telling his wife goodbye for the night and heading out the door. Dozens of illuminated light-bulbs shimmer above his head, and he is admiring their brilliance as he rounds the corner and heads onto Colfax Avenue. He smiles to himself, realizing that his destination now lies only several blocks away. Jim passes a parking lot full of vehicles abandoned by young adults taking advantage of a Friday night. It doesn't bug Jim that, while all these people were able to drive, he had to walk eight miles in order to enjoy a concert. He has abided by the laws of the Sabbath since childhood, and he has now accepted its limitations.
The ticket to the rave, featuring a trance group called Infected Mushroom, costs him twenty five dollars. Twenty five dollars that he gladly hands over to the bouncer at the entrance. The air inside the claustrophobic walls of the dance club is sticky with the sweat of several hundred zoned out, pulsating bodies. Guiding his way through the familiar insides of his favorite club, Jim moves himself across the crowded dance floor and heads up a set of stairs and onto the balcony encircling
the party taking place below. There are grimy, faded day-beds scattered throughout the balcony, and Jim takes a seat on one. Behind his spot on the edge of the bed, two teens are stretched out on the mattress and cuddling together. Jim eyes the girls long, tan legs fondly remembering the days when a girl his age had legs like that. A tall, shady man with suspiciously large pupils walks past Jim for the third time, and he decides to take his chances.

Will wipes the little droplets of moisture off of his forehead and then goes back to chasing his right hand with his left. He tries to keep his fingertips only inches apart as he moves them through the air. Raving has never been Will's strong point, but the workout of dancing keeps the ceratonen flowing through his body, and, thus, his high up. He moves his body to the music that is bouncing off of the walls and into the eardrums of the venue's visitors as he glides over to the drinking fountain. Greedily replenishing his body's loss of water, he continues slurping until he is tapped on the back. Expecting an impatient 'candy-girl' behind him, he instead finds his sister Magen.
"Dude, you have to meet this guy I just met" she tells him, her feet twitching as she speaks.
He follows her to an older looking man sporting a long beard and a tie-dye t-shirt. The man is slumped against the wall. His eyes, half open, contain pupils dilated to twice their normal size. Seeing the approaching Will and Magen, the man slowly stands and walks over to introduce himself. He stumbles, tripping over himself, as he walks over to the siblings.
"Will meet Jim. Jim this is my brother Will." Jim offers his hand to Will and slurred words spill out of him.
"Hey man, is too many four pills of molly?" His head tilts sideways and he catches his mistake. "I mean, did I take too many pills of ecstacy? Will glances at his sister questioningly.
"Jim is an Orthodox Jew Will. He walked from his house eight miles from here." Jim interrupts Magen finishing for her.
"Yah man. After sundown, the wife, she doesn't like it when I drive on Fridays. So I kiss my kids goodnight, and walk my way to the party." Will stares, marveling the man, his mind grasping the oddity in front of him.
"So you've had four pills tonight" he asks Jim.
"Yah, man. My first time too. I normally stick to mushrooms." An obvious grin crosses Will's face.
"Are you fucking with me man? I love mushrooms."
"Naw man. Do them all the time. Even at work. Maybe an eighth a day." Jim sways as he speaks, his body moving like a flag in a light breeze. Will finds his thoughts consumed by a combination of disbelief and concern. Didn't this man say he had children?
"Dude, that can't be healthy" Magen mumbles.
"No worries man. It doesn't do me no harm. Hell, my bosses can't even tell. I just slit at my computer all day and trip out. And I get paid almost $40,000 a year." As he speaks, Jim stumbles backwards, almost knocking his head against the wall. This startles Will and he grabs his sister pulling her away from the man and into the mass of bodies grinding to mind-bending beats.

A man, a man with drool dribbling down his chin and onto his beard, staggers out of the cramped confines of a noisy nightclub. His clothes are drenched with the stench of perspiration, his mind clouded with the intense sensation of an ecstacy roll. The cool air of a summer night tickles the man's skin as he finds himself outside. He takes the first couple steps of his long journey home, messaging his neck as he walks, eager for the sleep awaiting him. Yet he will never arrive home, for as he approaches the stop sign in front of him, his heart stops and he crumples to the ground.