Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Kafka, Ketamine and Chaos in Stripperville, NY

With a folded paper bound copy of Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis tucked in my back pocket and a handful of acid, I washed down the orange sunshine tablets with an iced cold Heineken and a breath of fresh air. It was only an amount of time when it would take a firm hold and bring me to psychedelic heaven. In between the time it would grip me and now, I reached for my Kafka and read a short caption while showing little interest in the pile of Ketamine my girlfriend was shoveling up her nose with her new friend, Star child. Storm, my girlfriends stage name, was every bit of descriptive as her life. One big thunderous storm of chaos. Her birth name was Chrissy, which was far more beautiful than her general perspective and immature nature in life. Star-Child was someone new that entered the arena of the poled stage and still naive to the ways of stripper life. Chrissy took her under her wing, which was a scattered and tormented wing of broken dreams and abandoned innocence from childhood. Their outer physical beauty was gorgeous to say the least. Every man's desires wrapped up within a soft and warm comforter on my bed at the Airport Inn, where I resided on the outskirts of Stripperville, NY. It was 3:56 a.m. I was on a three day bender and it was reaching it's end. Gobbling up the handful of LSD-25 was a desperate attempt to keep this party roaring and maybe revive my sleep depraved mind. Star-Child seemed pretty cool. Still young, vibrant and a little more destined for a decent life if she got off board the stripper train. She wore her alter ego tattooed on her lower back in a native American Indian mosaic of the sun gods with the name Star-Child bordering the top of her brand. She told me, "Call me Star, for short." Probably to keep her true identity anonymous and somewhat preserved. I was alright with that. She seemed like a Star to me right then and I kept reading Kafka.
I wasn't into these new designer drugs that had emerged from the techno club sub-culture. Ecstasy, Ketamine and GHB. They all sounded like a good time, but they were far more dangerous than LSD-25. I always kept a bottle of Qualude's or Valium on hand, just in case any paranoia would settle in and grip me with the fear. Living in an airport inn can be a weird lifestyle seeing people always coming and going. Meeting someone in the bar that was waiting on their layover and to then never see them again. You get a chance to catch a glimpse within their lives. Added were all the jets flying overhead at all hours, sometimes rumbling the foundation similar to that of a small earthquake. But I enjoyed this lifestyle. It was liberating in some strange way and isolating in another. As my mind started to purr from the orange sunshine tabs, I set my Kafka aside and started engaging Star and my girlfriend Storm. They were preparing Ketamine for nasal consumption in a toaster oven that I cooked French bread pizza's in. I warned them to be careful as not to burn the inn down and to keep in mind, we're really not in "Alice In Wonderland", to keep them in check. I could already feel that I wasn't going to get a big bang from the acid, because I had been eating a lot of it recently. My tolerance was pretty high, so a nap or a good sleep was approaching slowly. I also noticed their general demeanor was drifting into a tranquil mood of calmness from the Ketamine. A little to tranquil I might add. It reminded me of the Brazilian women that managed the inn. She was domineering and stingy, but I think she wanted to rape me. When I first re-located there, she was very friendly and helpful, but then, when I started dating Storm and brought her around, her tone towards me kind of changed. The room phone started ringing incessantly until I would answer, "Hello?" In a bitter and nasty tone, she would demand, "Richard, come down to the office immediately!"
Then I would get reamed out for something frivolous or ridiculous. I kind of let it go through one ear and out of the other, patronizing her, opting out of any sort of confrontations. I don't think she liked my guests, so, I would now enter the inn from the balcony staircase. When she realized I was avoiding her, she'd make up a new rule that everyone had to clear the front desk to enter. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn't. She was still taking my money to live there, so I really didn't pay attention to the rules. I never did anyway. I just tried to keep a low profile. As Storm and Star maintain a mild grip on themselves, I felt comfortable enough to catch some zzzzzz's hoping I wouldn't have to play babysitter and monitor their deviant activity with the Ketamine. If severely abused, it can cause some weird behavioral problems and stunt the mind a bit. It was like trying to sleep with one eye open, but after three days of heavy duty intoxication, my mind and body were screaming out for sleep. So, I did! Big mistake! I had probably gotten a few hours of sleep as the morning sun was now scorching through the slits of the paisley orange curtains now seeming to breathe or pulsate. A hallucinatory reaction from the LSD-25. The immediate problem was the dynamic beating on my door obviously in a frantic state like a cop hunting their prey.
Desheveled, paranoid and now hallucinating, I responded. "Who's there? I'm sleeping." At the same time I could see and smell smoke billowing out from my toaster oven. It smelled like burning chemicals and made me feel very nauseous and immediately concerned. So I tear the plug from out of the wall and gaze over to see Storm and Star sprawled out naked on the floor in a semi-conscious state with their bags of stripper paraphernalia and other nice goodies that would get me suited for a prison jumpsuit and a definite call to a bail bonds man. With a tone of scrutiny and a sincere concern for fire, the chamber maid responds, "I smell something burning from your room and it's filled the hallway with smoke and a strange odor. Please open your door so I can see in!" Oh Fuck! That wasn't going to happen. She slipped her master key in and yelled, "I'm coming in sir!" I had the strap lock hinged firm and tight, so her quick effort came to a screeching halt only opening a couple inches of the door. Whew! In a a very nervous tone I tell her, "I'm naked and have to throw on some clothes. I'm just smoking cigarettes. Hold on a minute." Fully clothed and lying my fucking ass off, I dash over over to awaken Storm and Star from their Ketamine induced stupor. The chamber maid again requests to gain entry with a firmer tone, "I smell a very strange odor and I can see the smoke coming from within your room. The smoke smells like burning chemicals, not cigarettes. I'm alerting the front desk at once!"
The chamber maid again requests to gain entry with a firmer tone, "I smell a very strange odor and I can see the smoke coming from within your room. The smoke smells like burning chemicals, not cigarettes. I'm alerting the front desk at once!" I said to myself, "you do that", and pushed the door shut and spin the deadbolt, then go into freak out mode trying to wake and clean up their intoxicated mess which had now become my nightmare. I take a more detailed scan of the room quickly as it looked like a night on the town with Keith Richards or Syd Barret. Stiletto heels, empty beer and liquor bottles, makeup, mace, costumes, all strewn about with little time to gather and clean up. Now the room phone starts to ring and ring. I knew if I didn't pick up the next knock on my door would be by the police for sure, so with apprehension and a head full of acid, I answer with a sorry and pitiful tone, "Hello?" It was the Brazilian Innkeeper at the front desk. She sounded really mad and screamed, "Richard, you need to come down right this second. I need to speak to you at once!" Again, in a sorrowful tone I tell her, "Ill be right down." And then proceed to gather anything I can see that would imprison me and jam it all in a brown paper bag like garbage. From there, I thought a good firm boot to their butts might get them up and alert, as this present dilemma was none of my doing. I could feel my hands start to quiver from the thought of facing her right now, so I pop ten milligrams of Valium to take the edge off. This wasn't going to be an easy bullshit routine. The boot to the butts brought them back to consciousness as they complained of the peculiar odor and the smoke they forgetfully created. I yell at both of them to get their drunken butts in gear and give them a quick briefing on the latest summons from the Queen of mean, our Brazilian Innkeeper. Before I slam the door behind me to go make my plunge into the depths of a nasty tongue lashing at least, I grit my teeth and tell them, "Get your acts together and no more damned Ketamine right now! Damn it! Clean this damn place up, NOW!" As I make my way down the hallway to the staircase, I could see other chamber maids whispering and hissing in my direction as the hallway did wreak of something foul and unlawful. I ease on down the staircase and take one last breath of air to compose myself and was hoping this wasn't going to be too ugly. When I approach her desk, she is seated in her wheeled arm chair, glaring through me with contempt and maybe pity. When she hung up the office phone, it made me feel a little nervous, maybe she had just gotten off the phone with the police, but the Valium was starting to ease in my psyche. When she sat up and stepped to me, she met me eye to eye and sternly stated, "You have one hour to pack your belongings and leave with your guests or I'll being calling the Sergeant of the state police. He's a personal friend of mine. I think it would be in your best interest to 'hit the road' and find a more suitable dwelling for your lifestyle and the friends you drag in." From there her words kind of dribbled out, as her face morphed into a snake head or some kind of demonic reptilian creature with a thirst for blood and control. I thought staring into her, I must be reading too much Kafka. In the midst of hallucinations and the burnt smell of Ketamine wafting our way, I gladly choke out the words, "I'll be gone in twenty minutes. I'm sorry to have caused such a ruckus." When I shuffle back up the staircase, she yells, "One hour! That's it!" I didn't bother to answer her. She meant every word of it! When I slid the key back into the door and opened it, the smell was overwhelming and grossly drug related. Storm and Star were just lolli-gagging as if nothing had happened. I was too pissed to unleash my fury on them at the moment. We just needed to pack and get out of Dodge, fast. They could tell my mood was unattractive as I passed down the instructions and moved at a brisk pace just tossing things in bags, taking no time to pack in a normal fashion. Lazy and with a smart mouthed tongue, Storm, as usual, felt the need to insert her two cents and barked, "To hell with that miserable witch. The minute she realized you had a girlfriend, she became a nasty and vindictive wench, because she knew there was no chance to bed you down and you know it! So don't go blaming me this all on me!" I reply, "Just pack up and let's move it. She's not playing around here with us. We're out of here, pronto!" Star didn't say much of anything in light of the circumstances. She just followed my lead unlike my girlfriend, Storm. Storm's apartment was just two miles away, so we didn't have far to travel. The whole incident stripped me of my independence because I had no real intentions of moving in with her. Way too mouthy and unpredictably detrimental to my liberties, as this being a prime example. Within fifteen minutes we were packed and headed out. When I threw everything into the trunk, I returned to the office to give the Innkeeper the keys back. She wouldn't even look at me other than to say, "Set them on the counter and go!" On the short ride back, I cracked another Heineken and guzzled it down before we hit the driveway and parked. Frazzled and weary, the "ladies" make their way into Storm's apartment as I sit and contemplate the last seventy-two hours when my cell phone rings. I view the caller ID and it was the damned Airport Inn. What the hell could they want now. I was going to click the phone off but decided I'd better answer it. Who knows what this could be about.
I answer, "Hello?" In a stern, but a bit more pleasant tone, she says, "Richard, you've left your Kafka book here, as the chamber maid found it while cleaning your room. There was a one hundred dollar bill as a bookmark. If you want it, you should retrieve it now or she'll keep it as a tip." I reply, "I'll be right there. Give me five minutes." She just hung up on my face. Driving back I thought, well, that was a nice gesture. She surely didn't have to do that. Still mildly hallucinating, I take a slower ride back as the car was stripped of any substances from the inn. When I do finally make it there, it was a chamber maid that handed me the one hundred dollar bill and stated, "She said to give you this and if you want the book back, she was available in her private suite." I thought, hmmmm, that's weird . I had never heard of any private suites in this small inn, but I definitely wanted my Kafka book back. The chamber maid pointed in the direction of the pool area where there was a long hallway that did seem a bit more private. It was very quiet, so I must have been heading in the right direction. I then heard what sounded to be Brazilian music echoing from within this partially opened room. This must be her private suite, so I gently knocked. The tone in her voice was erotic as she said, "Come in my dear." When I entered, she was seated at the edge of her bed dressed in a Swedish maid like costume, with her breasts protruding out of the tightly fitted garment. It was definitely something a stripper might wear before they disrobe and become the eyes of attention. Feeling stunned and unprepared for this encounter, I felt frozen within time, possibly a hallucination, or just another bad dream I had not awoken from. It was neither! When I extended my hand to grasp my Kafka, she grabbed my wrist firm and tight, flinging me on the bed with her and started kissing me with a very long tongue. Grossed out and now really freaked out, I thought, hell, I'll have to buy another copy at Barnes and Noble and squirmed my way out of her grips for the door in a furious hurry. When I hit the long hallway, I started sprinting my way the hell out of there when she screamed, "I'm calling the Sargent on you! Get the hell out of here!" With a lot less decency, I yell back, "Go ahead you old filthy swine! You make me sick!" I guess Storm was right. As I make my turn for the final exit, I hear a wine bottle smash at my feet, splattering me with glass and red wine. I jumped into my Honda Accord and put it in overdrive, straight to Barnes and Noble and never looked back. Another day in the life at Stripperville, NY!


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