In this post, I talked about Samson, a man I had some interesting adventures with, and very much loved. In the last story I had left him, as I would end up doing again. There is a story in between this story and the last whereby because of me, Samson inadvertently ended up in prison for two years. Yes, he was angry when he found me again, but we were still in love, and bound to spend one last time together.

I was living in a tiny little house that once was located where now exist a dam. The house and it’s foundation were moved to a town that no longer even exists now, and it was here I would have my last adventure with Samson. I had gone through a series of events that had ended me up in jail for four months, and left me suffering with agoraphobia. I was quite lonely however, and was doing my best to just get by, when he came back into my life.

Samson was a martial artist, and was never one to do drugs, except an occasional bout of drinking here and there. This of course was not the case with me, though I  had to be pretty careful at this point because I was on probation. Samson was on parole.  Somehow or another Samson had ended up with an offer for some acid however, and I figured ‘why not’?

LSD and hallucinogenic mushrooms  are the two drugs that do not show up in your average drug test, hence why it is the military drug of choice. I have no idea what possessed Samson into wanting to try acid, as he was not one to even smoke pot. Acid and mushrooms though were my favorite drugs, so I was pretty excited. When he arrived back at the house he told me he had already taken a hit, and noticed nothing. He gave me a hit, and took another one himself.  That would prove to be a large mistake.

I have to say that this was the best acid I have ever taken, and within thrity minutes I was already tripping quite hard. The room was fracturing into small disconnected pixels, and I was unable to see the room as a whole. This was good stuff, and poor Samson had taken two hits! I turned to him and said, “I think we have a problem.” or something to that effect.

It was in that moment that his eyes glazed over and he was gone to this world. He began to growl and make noises that sounded like a rabid animal, and his gaze darted about chaotically. “Where is that snake?” he asked in a crazy freaked out voice, and began an illusory search. It was later I would come to understand that the last thing he was to consciously see was a beer bottle featuring a snake on the label. It was absolutely horrifying to be honest, I was completely unable to take control in the situation and help him through whatever was happening.

I made a stab at talking to him, trying to draw him out of wherever he was at, but nothing I said or did helped…it was as if I wasn’t there. At one point his eyes once again fixated on the alcohol bottle, and he did something next I will never forget. Samson balled his fist up and punched straight forward toward the beer bottle, which barely made any noise at all as he made contact. He retracted his fist, and there sitting on the table still sat the beer bottle, but miraculously the top was perfectly sheared off, as if by a glass cutter. I was definitely worried now.

He made his way out of the house via the back door, and I was alone. What was I going to do? My very dangerous boyfriend was at the moment obviously insane, and there was nothing I could do to get through to him. To make matters worse, I was on some very high quality LSD, and there was no coming down any time soon.

I began to hear noises out in the side yard, and decided I had better go investigate. My neighbors had a large German Shepherd who weirdly had the same name as my cat…Cy. Cy was jumping up and down and barking, as Samson came at him with his fist…he was trying to do battle with the neighbor’s dog!  I went back into the house with absolutely no understanding as to what I was going to do next.

I have no idea how much time had passed, but I decided to go check on Samson, and see what was going on. I headed through the rear area of the house, which consisted of a laundry room and the door leading into the side yard. It was in this small room I found Samson. He was laying face upward, and his entire body was going through severe seizures. I got a watch, and timed his pulse, it was 120 beats per minute. He was completely unconscious at this point, and I knew I was going to have to call an ambulance.

My first problem was that I had no phone, and the nearest phone available to me, was at my neighbors. Yes, these were the same neighbors that had somehow not taken note of a crazy man in their yard trying to attack their dog. They were very normal as far as people go, a young couple who I do not think had ever touched drugs in their entire lives. I made my way over to their home, and knocked on the door.

They were awake thank goodness, and I quickly explained that I had a medical emergency that required their phone. I explained to them the circumstances going on, and begged them for entrance. They were scared, it was obvious. They were thinking something along the line of, “Oh my god, there is a woman standing here on LSD wanting entrance into our house…she might kill us!”  After a few minutes of dialog, I finally convinced them to let me use their phone.

It was the old style, you know the corded phones with the numbered buttons? I held the receiver in one hand, and attempted to type the number of the hospital they had found for me into the phone. My fingers were melting into the keypad, and the numbers were dripping everywhere. “Excuse me, but everything is melting, could you please type the numbers in for me?” I asked. Their faces contorted into horror, but one of them overcame their fear, and helped me get the number dialed in.

Back then, just as now, everyone and their mother came. There were the police, the firetruck, and of course the ambulance. They loaded Samson up into the ambulance, and just as he was being hooked up to various devices, he came to. He saw me standing there at the rear of the ambulance, and began to scream death threats at me, asking how I could have turned him in like this. I decided it was best I did not ride in the ambulance, and got a ride with another one of the emergency crew.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was told Samson was taken to the ICU. What was I going to do? I knew Samson was very mad, enraged more to the point. I knew I should be sitting there by his side, but I was terrified. I came up with an alternate plan at the time I figured would give me a good excuse as to why I was not there with him. It was not a well thought out plan, but it was all I could think of.

I went and found the hospital’s mental ward, and approached the intake nurse. “I am on acid, and I would like to be admitted.” I said with determination. The woman looked at me and proceeded to tell me I looked like I was doing just fine, and the fact that I was on hallucinogens was not her problem. I told her I didn’t care what her opinion was, and she was going to check me in. She did.

After a few hours of hanging out with various loonies,who were seriously crazy, my old psychiatrist arrived to have a chat with me. It was during this brief session he not only released me, but stated with frustration, “You don’t have mental problems, you don’t have drug problems, you have attitude problems!” I love that quote to this day.

I figured at this point I was going to have to break down and go visit Samson. Armed with the fact that I had been hospitalized as well, I felt a little safer. I was taken into the ICU area that he was being cared for in, and the curtains were drawn around us. I was alone with him. I sat next to him on the edge of the bed, as he relayed to me the story of what had occurred to him. Evidently while wrestling with the neighbor’s dog, he had been stung by a wasp. Samson is very allergic to bees and such things, and actually keeps near him usually a kit for such emergencies. Oddly enough, the doctors said he would have died if he had not been on the acid.

He told me how they had injected him with large amounts of vitamin C to bring him down off of the acid, and that he was feeling much better. This however did not make him any happier with me, and he was angry beyond measure that I had in his mind inadvertently turned him into the authorities(again), for breaking parole. He reached his hands up to my neck, and began strangling me. I contemplated trying to get someone’s attention, but decided it would not be a good idea. I stared at him straight in the eyes, never wavering, and he eventually let go. He told me later how annoying it was for me to have not flinched or looked away, and he just couldn’t bring himself to go through with it.

The police did come, and took statements from us both; of course this was going to get back to my probation officer as well. After his release, we went back to my place. I packed lightly, and we headed out on a tourist bus headed to some gambling town. During the journey, I began to think things through, and about halfway to our destination I got off the bus and headed back home. I had no desire to go back to jail, and I knew that if I stayed with Samson, it was probably inevitable. That was the last time I ever saw Samson, and I have to admit, I have missed him ever since. Perhaps someday I will see him again, and perhaps this time, it will be under better circumstances. Blessings to you Samson, wherever you are.