... Weird With It

"I was looking for some action, but all I found was cigarettes and alcohol."

-Oasis, Cigarettes and Alcohol




The Ecstasy was rolling Strong. I could feel it's basement engineered chemicals rushing to my head. Important questions floated in and out of my consciousness. When did I have to be at work? What time is it? What's the meaning of life? I couldn't focus on much of anything for longer then a minute or two, so I just I sipped my beer listening to the birds chirp on an apartment roof. The first yellow/orange rays of sun light were peaking over the horizon.

Until this point it had been a rather uneventful night. I guess if I wasn't on a Class A narcotic it would have still been relatively uneventful but I was having a good time getting weird with it. This was a term being thrown around lately, propagated by my new friends Brian and Matt in honor of their bands new EP Summer of Weird. The George Elliot Underground's sound is a mess of southern rock 'n' roll, blues and a dash of KOL pop rock.

They really are one of the better groups in the local scene. The Floorwalkers and Spikedrivers also come to mind for those of you taking notes. I recommend them all very highly. I digress, back on track.

I started my night at Garage bar in the arena district. I have to give it credit, for being located in the "Bro" hotbed of Columbus it really wasn't that bad. They had PBR talls, so I fit right in. Janis, Shea and I were there to see GEU, who was opening for Chelsea Automatic, yet another local group who had been getting good pub as of late.

Unfortunately we had missed Brian and Matt's set. When it comes to Chelsea Automatic let me tell you, don't believe the hype. They weren't anything to write home about. The show wasn't awful but certainly not good. Their best song was an Arctic Monkeys cover I was only half paying attention to. They did have nice representation though. Local kids who probably went to high school with the guys in the band. We hadn't, so we weren't feeling it.

I had a great conversation about the finer points of Ryan Adams with Matt and Brian over a cigarette. Although we all had a different favorite track, we all agreed his version of Wonderwall blew Oasis' out of the water.

"I love Oasis," Brain explained. "But it's no longer their song." I couldn't agree more. Even Noel Gallagher has acknowledged that Ryan's version gives the song it's soul .

They both looked their parts. Brian, the drummer, was a cross between Animal from the Muppets and the guy with the hair from Mars Volta. Matt, the singer, had an Irish Caleb Followill vibe. They both wore tight shirts and filthy jeans. Regardless, I was enjoying talking to people so into music.

The bartenders made last call. Janis and Shea started to say their goodbyes but I was beginning to catch my buzz and had the urge to prolong it. I tagged along with my two new compadres to an after hours bar on North Campus.

We walked down High, chattering loudly. Once we got to Outfields we veered left into an alley. There was a beat-up plywood door on the side of the building. Some shady characters were hanging outside. They were a cross between country and ghetto. You know the type. They densely populate areas like Pataskala or other out cropping counties still close enough to infiltrate Columbus' decent drinking society.

"This is it," Matt said as he handed one of them his ID and a twenty dollar bill. Apparently cover is taxed after hours. We walked into the crudely fashioned door and up some steps to the second floor of Oldfeilds. It was an intense check-in process. We were all frisked and patted down. We gave our IDs to a third bouncer who wrote our names on a sheet of paper. Next, a number was etched on our hand in sharpie. I felt like a lab rat in a maze, being tagged for an upcoming experiment.

A couple names for the place had been tossed around on our long walk. Afterhours, World Peace Bar but it should have been called the Rave Cave. Glow stick twirling and intense house music was the fare of the evening/morning. Digiraatii was on the mix and a lot of people were doing what appeared to be dancing on the raised floor.

The crowd was a bizarre mix of scene kids, homeless looking drunks, college aged coeds and high rollers. We had all come together, united under one cause, a few drinks more then last call usually aloud. One guy in a three piece suite was seated next to what had to be am escort, judging on her intense make-up and skin tight lime green mini-skirt. He probably had two wives and a girlfriend as well. I could see the sleaze beading up on his forehead like sweat.

Since it was past 2 a.m. and no one was aloud to "serve" alcohol, the bar at the rear was excepting donations. Basically you paid $5 for a ridiculously small vodka and Hawaiian Punch and didn't bitch about it. We posted up and people watched. Some guy with a mullet walked up and said, "hi" to Brian. He had on a black cut-off NWO (of wrestling fame) tee. I took to calling him Whackgyver the rest of the night.

Attractive women were sprinkled throughout the crowd. One hipster chick caught my attention especially. She was very thin and attractive in a Kate Moss ugly model way. I tried to dance with her but she gave my house music moves one look and wasn't having any of it. I was out of my element for sure, what had we gotten ourselves into?

Many over priced drinks later, we decided it was time to go. We stepped outside into a surprisingly large crowd which had gathered in the alley. Pot smoke was in the air and we mooched on a bowl or two. We struck up a conversation with some random guy who offered to sell us Ecstasy at $10 a hit. He took a large drug baggie out of his pocket. The multi-colored pills looked like a sack of smarties in his hand. None of us wanted to pony up the dough and were about to walk away when his inner salesman came out.

"Take a hit each and if you like it give me a call sometime." Matt declined but feeling drunk and adventurous, Brian and I took the offer. I noticed it was in the shape of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle head just before I popped it into my mouth.

We cabbed it back to Brian's apartment, chain smoking Marlboros and listened to tunes on his roof as we watched the sunrise. The X was definitely good shit. It was a mellow body buzz with a cocain-ish upper sensation. Our new supplier would most certainly be receiving a call in the future.

Totally wired we decided we hadn't had enough. We went to Mike's Bar in the Short North looking for some action. It opened at 7 a.m. and the three of us were slamming shots of Kentucky Tavern by 7:30. I was now in a very bad way. I had to have nourishment. Breakfast happened at Vic's Cafe, some mesh of corn beef hash and scrambled eggs I scarfed down with out thinking twice or tasting it. Strong coffee brought me back to reality.

Out of no where, Janis and Shea busted in as Brian was playing a acoustic guitar set up for open mic at the cafe. Things were officially starting to freak me out. It felt surreal to see them after being out on the town with them earlier in the night/morning. I was starting to realize how absurd my behavior was. I began questioning my morals and life choices. The drugs were wearing off.

Before I could dwell on it, I was on my feet and out the door. I walked out on my check, which I never do. I was beyond fucked up. I stumbled back to my place and peeked into my parked car. There was a half eaten birthday cake in the back seat and I had no idea how it got there. Shit had definitely gotten too weird for me. My bed never felt so good.


-J.R.