I Didn't Always Enjoy Sleeping Around

I've had my share of hookups during my time here in Boston since 1994. I've always had an active sex life and my close friends often asked me who I haven't slept. When we'd enter a bar, we'd play a game where we would count all the people we had sex with and I often came up the winner.

My sexual promiscuity didn't just reside in New England, however. I'd be shacking it up with complete strangers in New York, P-Town, Florida, Palm Springs, San Francisco, London, Hong Kong, or wherever my travels would take me.

One summer's day in 2001, I remember I was at my friend's apartment in the South End watching an episode of Ricki Lake. It was a rainy afternoon and Trevor and I were nursing our hangovers from the previous night's libations at Buzz (one of the hottest nightclubs in Boston that has since shut down) with strong mimosas. We sat by a window so we could exhale our cigarette smoke from his living room, but the hot damp still made the nicotine linger around us. Our eyes were glued to the TV where Ricki's guests were gathered to discuss: Help! My sister's out of control!

Neither Trevor nor myself managed to hook-up the night before and watching this trash TV was a sad consolation prize. Nonetheless we were both captivated by the drama unfolding on the TV.

"Ricki, girlfriend, you have to talk some sense into my sister, Shaniqua," one guest complained.
"La Dawn, what is it that Shaniqua is doing?" Ricki questioned.
"Shaniqua a total ho!" La Dawn explained.

La Dawn continued to reveal that she was concerned about Shaniqua's sex life. Apparently Shaniqua was a "total ho" because she had 24 sex partners at the tender age of 28. Trevor and I looked at each other and chuckled while we slurped on our mimosas. We didn't have to verbalise anything as we already knew what we were thinking. We were in our mid twenties and our sex partners already far exceeded Shaniqua's.

"What are you laughing at you stuck up slut?" I teased Trevor.
"Lady, please! I'm not a stuck up slut. I'm a stuck up twat," Trevor defended, "I may sleep around but I still have standards!"
"Yeah, low standards!" I added.
"You should talk, Cum Sponge," Trevor always had the best nick names for his friends.

It was true. We were both easy. And that was part of the reason we were such close friends. We never judged each other for what we did in our own respective bedrooms, or in the bedrooms of others we'd end up in.

"When did this all start?" Ricki asked La Dawn.

As La Dawn started to recount when Shaniqua's tawdry habits began, I started to question myself how such an innocent Asian boy from Hong Kong turned out to be such a tramp. I took a deep drag on my cigarette and tried my hardest to think back to when my first hookup ever occurred. My memories, however, must have been under the influence of my strong mimosa and leftover remnants of cocaine from the night before, as I traveled all the way back to a time when I was in primary school in Hong Kong.

*****

I went to Peak School in Hong Kong, a primary school originally dedicated to the children of UK expats, from primary one through six. It was at the Peak School that I met my first best friend, Matt Hallard. We were both in P1.2 and Matt and I hit it off immediately, perhaps because of the fact we both didn't naturally fit in with the rest of the school; Matt was American and I was clearly not English having dark hair and no freckles.

We quickly formed a bond-alliance at school. It was us versus the Brits. Matt and I sat together, played together and laughed together. During play time we were inseparable. We were like brothers joined at the hip. We threw sand at each other and shared paints during our hand painting sessions. We giggled together during lunch when we heard our head mistress recite our daily lunch prayer: For what we're about to receive, may the Lord make us truly grateful. Amen!

It wasn't long before we continued our play time after school. Matt lived in a very luxurious four storey house in Strawberry Hills that was situated right around the corner from Peak School. While I took the school bus into school each day, Matt just had his maid drop him off at the school entrance. Like many of the other Brits, Matt's dad moved to Hong Kong from the States for work. Matt's close proximity to school made it convenient for me to head right there after school some days.

"Mrs. Hallard, you have such a big and beautiful house," I said shyly when I first met her.
"Well thank you, Ch'ien-hung," Mrs. Hallard smiled proudly.
"Mom, his name is Chengy!" Matt interjected.

Matt quickly pulled my arm and brought me downstairs to his bedroom to show me the fort he had constructed during the weekend. We spent hours there before my mum came to pick me up.

"Boys, Chengy's mother is here to take him home," Mrs. Hallard's voice came through the intercom in Matt's room.

"No!" Matt cried. "Can't you stay a little longer?"

I shook my head and we slowly slumped ourselves to meet our mothers upstairs in the kitchen.

"Daphne, your son is so well behaved. It's a pleasure to have him anytime," Mrs. Hallard said to my mother. "Our other son is in the Army Reserve in the States and Matt is often quite lonely without his brother," Mrs. Hallard continued.

I looked over to Matt moping into his glass of milk on the counter.

"Maybe one night Chengy can stay the night," Mrs. Hallard offered.
"Yay! When? When?" Matt perked up from his grouchiness, "Chengy, that would be awesome!"

Sleep over? What the heck was that? If I stayed over at the Hallard's, would Mrs. Hallard tuck me into bed? That was my mum's job! Or Mary's job (our maid), if my mum was out at a squash tournament. I looked back at Matt who was beaming at the idea of a sleep over and I just smiled back at him.

Matt and I continued our play sessions after school and even occasionally invited each other to our country clubs to play during the weekends. We'd splash around in the pool or run around on the cricket field while my mum played squash with her girlfriends.

Our first year at Peak School quickly ended and it was time for our summer holidays. Matt went home to the States to visit his family while I traveled with my parents to Malaysia to see my grandparents and some aunts and uncles. By the time I was returned to Hong Kong to start Primary Two I couldn't wait to see Matt. We called each other the night before school started and we were thrilled to start another year together.

At school we were quickly reunited and couldn't stop telling each other about our summer holidays.

"Chengy, you have to come over soon!" Matt started telling me over lunch. "My brother was here over the summer and he helped me build the coolest fort in my bedroom!"

Matt cheated on me and had build a fort without me! I told Matt that I would check with my parents when I could stay over. I knew I wouldn't be able to decline Matt's offers for long and that eventually, I'd have to sleep over at Strawberry Hill...

That night came the following weekend. On that Friday before, Matt pulled me aside before I got onto my school bus that would drive me home.

"Chengy, we're going to have so much fun this weekend," Matt assured.
"I can't wait," I said to Matt even though I had no idea what to expect. I had never slept over at someone's house who was not related to me.

The next day, Mary helped me pack an over nighter as we waited for my mum to come home from a morning squash match at the Kowloon Cricket Club. I knew we had a lot of time because we lived in Repulse Bay, the south side of Hong Kong Island, which meant my mum had to take the tunnel under the South China Sea and drive from the top of Hong Kong Island to the bottom.

Mary helped me pack "Bee Bee," my favourite stuffed puppy dog, a set of pyjamas, my swim trunks, toothbrush, a set of clean clothes, and a couple of my favourite Mr. Men books that I thought Mrs. Hallard might enjoy reading to me.

During the car ride to Matt's, my mum turned around to look at me buckled in the back seat. My pop was driving.

"Son, I will miss you so much tonight," my mum started cooing.
"Baby, are you sure you have our phone number memorised in case anything goes wrong?" my pop asked me.
"8-1-2-0-1-0-1!" I replied proudly.
"Of course our baby remembered our phone number, 'Dar,'" my mum snapped at my pop. She called him 'Dar,' short for 'darling.'

My pop parked the car at a guest spot at Strawberry Hill as my mum held my hand as we walked to the Hallard's front door. She rang the doorbell.

"It's Chengy!" I heard Matt scream from somewhere behind the front door.

Matt's maid opened the door and Matt came running out milliseconds after. This kid couldn't wait for me to stay over! Mrs. Hallard appeared and started chatting with my mum. Matt pulled at my arm to direct me into his house. But my other hand was still clutched to my mother's hand. My mum pulled me close to her and knelt down beside me.

"All right, son," my mum started, "Be a good boy and have fun with Matt, all right?" She pulled me closer for a hug and I sunk my face into her hair. The smell of fresh shampoo from the country club and her perfume sank into my brain.

"Mummy, why don't you stay with me and Matt?" I pleaded.
"Don't be silly son," my mum replied, "Mrs. Hallard will be here if you need anything. Have fun with Matt and pappa and I will come back tomorrow afternoon to collect you."

I hesitated to let go of my mum, but as I did, I was quickly dragged into Matt's house with my sleepover bag in tow.n I quickly forgot about my mum as Matt revealed his new fort made of sofa cushions and pillows. It was truly a construction of splenor. We crawled through the makeshift tunnels and pretended to throw bombs at everyone we didn't like from school. When we got bored of that we changed into our trunks and ran over to the pool in the Strawberry Hill complex.

When Mrs. Hallard called us home for dinner I was delighted to hear that she had prepared her famous spaghetti and meatballs that I loved. She even let us drink a whole can of Coca-Cola each! After dinner, Matt suggested we head into the TV room to watch some cartoons.

"Okay boys, I'll be right behind you with some ice cream," Mrs. Hallard said as we cleared the kitchen.
"I also have a bunch of candy in my room so we can have a midnight feast later," Matt whispered to me.

I was touched by the Hallard's hospitality, but I suddenly had a sick feeling in my tummy. I knew it wasn't the dinner. The meal was delicious. It was something else. I was starting to feel homesick. I longed for my mum, my pop, Mary, and my two older brothers. I wondered what they were doing as Matt turned on the TV and put a video in the VHS player.

When Mrs. Hallard came into the TV room with two bowls of ice cream and kissed Matt on the forehead I wanted to cry. I wanted my mum to kiss me on my forehead.

"Is everything okay, Chengy?" Mrs. Hallard asked.

I nodded and looked over at Matt spooning heaps of ice cream into his mouth. I told them I had to pee and headed downstairs into Matt's bedroom and started to pack my bag. I crept into Mr. and Mrs Hallard's bedroom and searched for their telephone. I found it lifted the receiver and called home.

"Mummy, I want to come home," I started sobbing into the telephone.
"Are you sure, son?" my mum asked me. "Is everything okay?"
"No, I want to come home," I said.
"All right. We'll bring you back home. Let the Hallards know we're on our way."

I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and slowly headed back up to the TV room where the Hallards were watching cartoons.

"Chengy, your ice cream is melting," Matt said.
"Are you sure everything is okay?" Mrs. Hallard asked again.

I ignored her and started scooping a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. The cool sweetness felt nice sliding down into my belly. I stared at the TV screen wondering when my parents would arrive to bring me home.

When the doorbell finally rang, I snapped out of my tortured trance.

"I wonder who that could be?" Mr Hallard said to the Mrs.

I continued watching the cartoon unaware of what was going on at all. Matt didn't even twitch. Matt's maid entered the TV room.

"Ma'am, it's Chengy's parents," the maid said to Mrs. Hallard.

Without hesitating, I ran out the TV room to find my mum waiting at the front door. I held out my arms and started to cry as my mum lifted me up to carry me in her arms.

"Oh, son... Don't be so silly. There's no need to cry. Mummy's here," my mother caressed my head as she held me tight.

"Chengy! Where are you going? You're supposed to stay the night!" Matt said at the doorway.

Mrs. Hallard held him back and motioned to Mr. Hallard to grab my bag. My mum put me down and I turned around to say Sorry. I wasn't sure who I apolgised to or why I was apologising but I knew an apology was in order. I crawled into my pop's Peugeot where I found him sitting in the driver's seat and my two brother in their pyjamas giggling.

"You're such a loser!" my oldest brother, Tien, said to me.
"Ha ha! You couldn't even stay away one night," added my middle brother, Ch'ien-Hsiang.
"Boys, cut it out!" snapped my pop.

I knelt onto the back seat and looked out of the car's rear window and saw my mum speaking with Mrs. Hallard. Matt was pleading with his eyes to have me come out the car, but I had already made up my mind to go home. My mum eventually started walking toward the car and got it.

"Okay, let's go home," she said simply to my pop.

As the car started, I turned again to look at Matt and Mrs. Hallard standing in their doorway. Matt wiped tears from his face and sunk his face into his mother's skirt. She cupped his head and brought him into the house.

*****

I'm not sure why that memory resonates so clearly in my head. Matt and I were so close but I wasn't able to stay at his house that night. I think another few weeks passed before I managed to stay at his house for a whole night. After that night there was no going back. I asked to stay for 2 nights and soon if I wasn't staying the night at Matt's house, he was staying with me.

I then started staying at other friends' houses, too. My parents started complaining I was never home and they missed their baby son. By the time I was fifteen I was rarely home. I was out with friends at the video arcades or sneaking into bars and smoking cigarettes. By the time I left home for University, I had full freedom to do anything without the permission of my parents.

I recounted the story about Matt to Trevor.

"Now instead of innocent sleepovers, you're just sleeping around!" Trevor laughed. "Like I said, you're a cum sponge!"
"Shut up!" I said to Trevor. "I don't know why but I still feel bad I did that to Matt after all those years... I'll never for get his face from that night!"
"So is that who you think of everytime some daddy picks you up? You don't owe Matt, or any one you wanna go home with, shit!"

I'm not sure if Trevor had a point, but I do wonder why I found it so easy to sleep with strangers. Was it a gay rite of passage? Was it curiosity? Promiscuity? All of the above? None of the above? Looking back, I think Matt was trying to fill a void his brother created when he left home to head to the Army Reserves. I'm glad Matt found me to fill it because he forced me to get comfortable sleeping in another bed other than my own.

Did That Just Really Fucking Happen?!?! Moment #1: Stop Photography

In my fourth year at Island School I quickly grew a quick affinity to photography. We wound our own film, took our own photos, and developed our own pictures. I loved getting inspired by black and white photos by Herb Ritts, Ansel Adams, Steven Meisel.

I started spending a lot of time in the dark room at school. My new hobby started invading time with my squash lessons, swim training, and everything else I loved. Photography became my new love. I was at every school event with my Canon 50mm. I caught photos of couples making out; slam dunks on the basketball court; special guests at our school assemblies.

It was no wonder that when it came time for our school Athletics Day I was asked to help take photos for the school yearbook. I was eager to step up to the plate to provide the year’s best photos.

Athletics day was a time when all six Houses at Island School competed in track and field events. Each year, Island School would rent an entire sports arena for Atheltics Day to host each House to compete with each other. The entire school had the day off so each year could cheer for their respective House.

There was a lot of House pride at Island School. Each house wanted bragging rights to be the best house at the end of each school year. If you watched Harry Potter, you’d get an idea of the Inter-House competitiveness. Every student wanted an opportunity to throw the discus the furthest; arch their back the highest in the high-jump; or speed through another record on a track event.

That year, Athletics Day couldn’t be brighter, nor sunnier. The stadium was filled with orange, purple, red, blue, green, and yellow jerseys that represented the Houses: Da Vinci, Einstein, Fleming, Nansen, Rutherford, and Wilberforce, respectively.

Our team of photographers had our own game plan. We separated into small groups to make sure we hit all our own targets: the cheering crowds and teetering teenage girls rooting for the jocks; all field events, judges and medal handlers; the commentators and announcers up in the press box; and of course, the most coveted track events that were always the most exciting events to watch. Miss Higgins, my House Mistress for Fleming, as well as school PE teacher gave me a wink and I was responsible for the track event photos.

The day was going well. I started at one side of the track where I got some great shots of racers in their crouched start positions for the shorter track races, and then switched sides to get some amazing shots of tight finishes. Eventually it was time to prepare for the longer track events where the racers had to loop several laps of the 400m track.

I met with the other two photographers so we could figure out who was taking what. We decided that because runners would lap the track several times we could make it a free for all and go wherever we pleased.

The announcers in the press box started gathering the runners for the 1600m to the starting line.

“It’s been an exciting Athletics Day today, but there are still a few races left for each House to win more points to be number one. Mr Adams here, asking all runners for the 1600m to get ready…” No one could see Mr Adams on the track, but his distinctively squeaky voice filled the air from the stadium speakers.

“Harry, I’ll make sure I get the shot of you coming in first place,” I yelled to my classmate who was running for our House, Fleming.

Harry looked back at me, gave me the thumbs up and then posed for the camera like the race was in the bag. Harry was easily one of the top contenders for this race as he’d been running cross-country breaking records each year.

“On your marks,” Mr Adams continued, “get set…”

Bang! A judge by the starting line pulled the pistol trigger and the runners were off on their way. The electronic timer began counting the seconds and the crowd went wild as they cheered for the runner representing their respective House.

Being on the field during the race is quite surreal as you see people cheering at you even though they weren’t cheering for you. I felt obligated to snap away. I took photos of everything: the crowd, the runners, the other photographers taking photographs; I felt like I was running my own race!

Harry was far in the lead. The runners had already completed several races and I knew I had to get to the finish line so I could get that winning photo of Harry. The timer on the leader board continued counting.

“It looks like Harry from Fleming could be setting a new record this year,” Mr Adams announced from the press box.

I finally got to the finish line and turned around so I could catch Harry face-on as he crossed the finish line.

“And, yes! Harry has done it again and has a new record!” squeeked Mr Adams.

I was looking through my camera and madly snapping pictures and waited for Harry to enter my photos frames. A few seconds passed and he never came. I turned to look back at the huge leader board timer and the clock had in fact stopped. So where was Harry? I turned again and saw Harry running breathless toward me and the finish line.

DTJRFH?!?!?!

I quickly realised I had run through the finish line sensor and stopped the clock on the leader board! My heart plopped into my liver. I looked beyond Harry and saw Miss Higgins screaming at me.

“Ch’ien! What have you done you ignorant boy?!” Miss Higgins was turning blue in the face.

I quickly rushed off the track and entirely missed Harry running through the finish line. Thankfully Third Year students were asked to be manual timers in the event there was a timer malfunction, which came in handy for when an idiot might run through the finish line even though he wasn’t in the race…

Miss Higgins let me off with a slap on the wrist while my classmates just thought my error was utterly hilarious. There wasn’t really any lesson I learned from this situation, except that I almost made it down in the books for the best 1600m time with my 50mm in hand…

Flying High, Over Seas

I'm not really sure what it means to be overseas anymore. I spent most of my adolescent years in Hong Kong, so coming to the US and then later traveling to Europe were my experiences, at the time, for traveling overseas.

Traveling without my parents really forced me to grow up and see the world with a new pair of eyes. I had to be smart and watch my own back. In my first year at BU, I got to fly to Montreal, Detroit, New York, London, and Amsterdam; all of which were pretty large and intense cities. My five senses were really challenged as I saw, touched, heard, smelled, and tasted brand new things. However, in all of my overseas travels, there was often one consistent thing I experienced: getting high.

I love being high. Wait. Don't be too quick to judge. I'm currently an employee at a top healthclub teaching indoor cycling and group fitness and get high on adrenalin and working out! All right. If you really know me, you'd know this wasn't always the case...

When I left Hong Kong in 1994 to fly to Boston, I was very well protected from the world of hard drugs. Aside from cigarettes and alcohol I really hadn't tried anything else. I had been very well educated about the consequences of drug use and I knew I would never meddle with such terrible substances. When I got to America, I quickly realised I was terribly wrong.

During my freshman year at BU, I remember working on group projects and pulling all nighters. One girl from Switzerland, Emily, pulled out some yellow pills one night and offered them to our group.

"What are they?" I asked.
"Oh nothing crazy. It's just Vivarin. Who wants some? It's two in the morning and we have seven more hours until our presentation," Emily replied.

I passed on the pills and secretly judged the others while they took a pill in their mouth and washed it down their throats with a shot of vodka. Not to be out-cooled by my group, I joined them with the shot of vodka and swallowed the hot liquid down my throat while wondering what had happened to good old fashioned coffee?

By 7AM we were almost done with our project and I was starting to get tired. That, or the effects of sipping vodka cranberries were finally taking its toll...

"Oh my God... Two more hours..." Emily moaned.

She got up from the floor where the rest of the group were huddled, scribbling away at our notes, and proceeded to work on another project at her desk. When I started to hear scratching noises, I peeked up and saw that Emily was crushing something. I looked closer and found emily cutting lines of Vivarin!

"Who wants a line?" Emily turned to the rest of the group and revealed a mirror with streaks of yellow powder. I thought she had lost her mind and gone completely mad.

"How do you do it?" asked a groupie.

Emily skillfully rolled a dollar bill and snorted a line. Two others followed.

"You guys are nuts!" I chuckled. But the peer pressure was too over whelming and I ended up opting to orally ingest 2 Vivarin pills.

By the time we got to our 9am class, I felt alive! We sat at the front of the auditorium and eagerly waited for our group name to be called out to give our presentation. I crossed my legs and pulled out my notebook, opened it to a fresh page, and laid it on my lap. As I started to take notes on the other group presentations, I noticed that I found it very difficult to write notes with a steady hand. I looked down at my chicken scratch and wondered why my handwriting looked like doodles? My hands felt fine and I started to feel a small sense of panic. I lifted my notepad and found my foot that was crossed over my grounded leg was shaking, on its own! I uncrossed that leg and grounded both feet. I took a deep breath and suddenly heard my heart thumping like it wanted to explode from my chest like an ingested alien.

I looked over to Emily and she looked like it was just another day except for the fact she had the glazed look of a Stepford Wife. I found the rest of my group and gasped when I realised they too, had turned.

When my group was finally called up to share our presentation with the rest of the class, we somehow managed to do so without a hitch. The class ended and all I wanted to do was head straight back to my dorm room where I could ditch the Stepford Wives and be alone.

I chain-smoked all the way back to the Myles Standish dorm room. Thankfully neither my room mate nor my suite mates were home so I could strip myself of my sweat drenched clothes and get under the covers of my bed. I tried to sleep but my heart was still thumping and I was wide awake. I cursed Emily for giving me Vivarin. Then I cursed myself for allowing myself to be peer pressured into taking those damned pills. And then I just wondered if I was going to survive this crazy heart palpitation. I did. And I later found out that we got an A for our group presentation.

*****

Looking back, I think it is sad to say that Vivarin, of all things, was probably my gateway drug. A couple weeks later I reconnected with Emily from our winter break and she invited me to her dorm room for a treat. She opened her desk drawer and revealed a slew of baggies that were each filled with weed or hash.

"What do you want? I have stuff from France, Armenia, Afghanistan, Nigeria, Holland, and some stuff that's homegrown," she explained.

From pot and hash, my explorations with drugs quickly escalated to acid the next week.

The acid dealer was the usual 'friend of a friend of a friend.' He sold his tabs that were all very carefully wrapped in foil. My American friend, Brenda, and I decided we'd try it out one night at a house party. Brenda also lived in Myles Standish Hall and when we met in the smoking lounge we quickly got along. She's originally from Connecticut but went to an American high school in Tokyo. We pretty much hit it off from the get go and we were both also extremely studious and never settled for anything but 'As.' I think her parents would die if they ever knew she meddled with drugs...

The night of 'the party,' we started drinking in her dorm room. What didn't we have? We started doing shots of Sambuca, vodka, Bailey's, and the list went on. We were finally ready for the final shot: acid. We carefully unwrapped the foil and on three, took a tab of acid each. We gathered our stuff and called our friends to meet us in the smoking lounge downstairs for a quick smoke before we went to the party.

At the smoking lounge, I swear I saw the tables and chairs start to breathe. They were literally pulsating. I vaguely recall seeing a two foot purple elephant run across the smoking lounge, too. Brenda and I were in hysterics! She was the only other person that saw the same things I did.

The party was a blast. Friends, cigarettes, alcohol, and pot. It's what every college student would want to find at a party. Except Brenda and I were also experiencing bursts of wild colours, dragons flying in rooms, and magical gnomes hiding from us.

"Brenda, this is insane! Wanna do another hit?" I offered?
"Sure!" Brenda replied.
"Okay, get them ready in the other room," I continued, "I'm just going to go to the toilet real quick."

When I finished my business I quickly rushed into the other room to meet Brenda. I found her sitting in the Lotus position with a cigarette dangling from her mouth.

"What took you so long, Ch'ien?" she mumbled.

I noticed she already had the tabs of acid out of the foil, and had a tab between her thumb and index finger in each hand!

"Brenda! What are you doing?" I squeeled, "You're absorbing the acid through the pores of your fingers right now!"

I charged at her and threw the cigarette that was in her mouth into the closest ashtray. I instructed her to immediately take one tab, and as she did, I headed mouth first into her other hand and swallowed the other tab. Sadly, I didn't stop there. I continued by sucking on all four fingers that had been holding each tab...

Around 4 or 5AM, we decided to head home back to our dorms at Myles Standish. I don't know what happened, but I started crying uncontrollably. It wasn't just a sniffle or a sob; I was full-out bawling!

My friends carried me to my room. Once in my suite, they were thankful to see my suite mate's lights on and they continued into his room.

"What the fuck happened, Ch'ien?" Deniz asked.

Deniz was from Turkey. He turned out to be one of my best friends while at BU. We moved into a condo in Kenmore square together for our Junior and Senior years. Friends described us as Euro-Asian Trash brothers. We went through so much together during our four years at BU, and tonight was one of his first tests to see if he would want to keep me as a friend.

My friends explained to Deniz that we had been at a party, drinking, smoking, and of course, that I did acid. Deniz exploded. I was pathetically choking and sobbing out his window.

"Do you have any of the acid left?" Deniz demanded.

Brenda confessed I still had a couple tabs left in my back jean pocket. Deniz wrestled me and stole the remaining tabs of acid and threw them out the open window.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" I screeched like a mother might have done if a stranger had slapped her child.

I ran out the suite and just remember waking up in Brenda's bed. I went into her bathroom to clean up. I looked into the mirror and saw a stranger staring back at me. I had cracked tears on my face and huge, sunken bags under my eyes. I later learned that what I had experienced was a "bad trip" coming down. I apologised to Deniz later that day and confessed that I had learned my lesson. For now...


*****

After my bad trip with LSD, I reverted back to pot and hash. But before graduating BU, I had also experimented with out-of-body experiences with opium and a fresh experience with the magical world of mushrooms. Oh, the mushrooms...

Mushrooms were like acid, but all natural. My favourite form of ingestion was brewing them in a pot of tea. I remember my friends and I would sip some Earl Grey Mushroom tea and then take a walk to look at the fairy lights, that were actually the headlights of passing cars.

Everything was always so beautiful except for the night we decided to head back to my friend's house to watch Taxi Driver. Robert DeNiro's hair turned into horns while he transformed into the devil. My friend's Godfather poster of Brando's side profile also turned into the devil; as did Brandon Lee in his "Crow" poster. I distinctly recall seeing him fly out of the poster toward me... Perhaps that was another sign telling me to stop with the drugs.

I didn't stop there either.

*****

My memories of taking drugs aren't all so bleak like those times when I came down on a bad LSD trip, or when everything turned into the devil when I was high on 'shrooms. When I graduated BU, I delved into the world of Coke and Ecstacy. It was a love-hate relationship with both drugs. The reason being that it would be a blast being high on the drug, but a total downer in the bedroom because I'd have "coke" or "E" dick (ie. I could never get it up).

When I lived with one of my best friends, Joe, we had a blast doing E together. We'd take a tab and start at Buzz (what used to be one of the hottest clubs in Boston) and then head to Rise where we'd dance till the sun rose. One time we were so bored at a house party in the South End we decided to head back to our apartment to do a booty bump so we could come back to the party with a "fresh" perspective.

We caught a taxi home and went into our drug stash and placed the tab up our butts. We had read that the flesh tissue in the rectum would absorb the drug into our blood stream a lot quicker and it worked. The two of us stopped off at a 7-11 to buy their entire stock of canned whipped cream to bring back to the party as party favours. The cabbie had to honk at us because we were finding it hard to tear ourselves from touching all the cold products in the fridge section. By the time we got back to the party we were both bouncing off walls and encouraging people do do cartwheels in the living room. Joe pulled out the cans of whipped cream and had party guests doing "whippits" where they just inhaled the nitrogen from each can.

Another great E experience came when Joe and I, along with six other friends, headed down to St John in the Caribbean. We flew there because four friends were working there for six months, and we heard there was going to be an amazing meteor shower and we wanted to see it while high on E. After a whole day of drinking on Jost Van Dyck Island on their pay-at-the-end "honorary system," we set out to a secluded beach on St John to prepare for the Shower. We all took a tab of E and started rolling around in the sand. While I was on my back, Joe lifted me up by my shins and swung me around like I was a set of helicopter blades. It felt incredible swinging in the air while I looked up at the dizzy array of stars.

When the meteor shower started it was truly magical. I was spinning without moving. The stars lapped my toes with each turn of a wave. The tiki torches we lit didn't reveal the crazed faces of the old men in the distance that had been doing this for years.

*****

All of my previous drug experiences never prepared me for the pot I smoked in Amsterdam. My ex-girlfriend from Island School, Marjon, was my link to Holland. She finished her uni years in the Netherlands since she was originally from Holland.

When we both went off to university, Marjon and I remained very close and always kept in touch. I went to Amsterdam almost every year and it was her friends that introduced me to the "coffee shops" in Amsterdam where you could by hash filled "Space Cakes" and buy weed and hash at these locations. After visiting these coffee shops I had to try my hardest not to get run down by cars and bikes on the winding streets of Amsterdam.

My ultimate experience of getting high in Amsterdam occurred when I flew there for Marjon's wedding. Screw any other drug I had before. Even all the hash and pot I tried at the Dutch coffee shops could not have prepared me for what Marjon had in store for me.

As a thank you for coming to her wedding, Marjon asked her close friends to "hook me up" with some "good shit." Claude and Yvette, who were a couple, rose to the challenge.

Two nights before Marjon's wedding, Claude and Yvette invited Marjon and I to their little "woonboot," or houseboat, on the river for a "smoke-up." It was a very cosy place, that I remember. Marjon rang the doorbell and I felt so excited I thought I was about to meet Madonna. Claude greeted us at the door and directed us into their sitting room where two other fellas sat smoking cigarettes with Yvette.

"Ch'ien!" Yvette welcomed me into the sitting room. She treated me like a bestie even though we had just met a few days earlier.

I kissed her three times on alternating cheeks like how the Dutch greet each other and sat down on the sofa beside her. Marjon sat on the other side of the coffee table with Claude. The two guys just raised their hands and waved a small hello to me. They sniggered when they heard I was visiting from Boston.

"So you want to try some real pot, huh?" Guy#1 asked me in his heavy Dutch accent. Guy#2 chuckled.

My five new friends began conversing in Dutch with a few giggles here and there. I felt myself shrinking into the couch. Wait a minute! Fuck you. I've done it all. I can handle whatever you give me. Bring it! If only I had the nerve to expressed my thoughts out loud.

"Ch'ien, are you ready to try some real Dutch pot?" offered Claude.
"Sure," I replied as I tried to keep my cool.
"Please be careful, honey," Yvette warned me.
"This pot is nothing like the shit you get in America," Guy#2 added.

I assured them I would be fine and that I had done plenty of strong substances already. I wasn't about to let these two Dutch bastards look down on me! One of them started rolling a thick joint. I took a big slurp of my wine to wet my throat in preparation of the hot smoke I knew I'd be inhaling. I started some small talk.

"It's a shame Farrah didn't want to join us tonight," I said to Marjon. Farrah was Marjon's best friend who flew in from London for the wedding.
"She really wasn't interested and she knows she's a light weight," Marjon replied.

A light weight? Now I'd seen Farrah get crunk with the best of them and never thought she'd consider herself a light weight. Was this Dutch pot really going to be that strong? The cigarette smoke in the sitting room was starting to burn my eyes and I excused myself.

"Yvette, sorry, where's your toilet?" I asked.
"Just go straight ahead and it's on your right," she said.

I found the rest room and locked the door latch behind me. They had such a quaint little bathroom. I noticed this was the only bathroom in their cosy houseboat. The standing sink, bathtub, and toilet fit snugly in the small space. I took a leak and reached to flush but noticed there was no flush handle. I looked around and found they really had an old fashioned toilet where the tank was above the toilet and they had one of those pull chains. So cute! I pulled the chain and was so childishly amused at the old fashioned contraption.

As I washed my hands I heard the crew laughing out loud in the sitting room.

"Ch'ien, get your shit together and put your game face on," I told myself as I dried my hands on the hand towel.

"Ch'ien, come quick, we've already gone one round without you," Yvette reached out the smoking joint in her hand.

The sitting room no longer smelled like stale cigarettes. Instead, it was filled with the sweet aroma of green. I took a seat back next to Yvette and took a long, slow drag of the Dutch pot.

"Good, right?!" Guy#1 slapped my back as I handed him the joint.
"Yeah, very smooth," I responded.
"Of course! We have the best!" added Guy#2.

In all honesty, I felt a minor anti-climax. I didn't think the pot was that special at all. But I didn't want to be ungrateful, and as I looked around the room, Claude and Yvette wore such proud smiles I couldn't find the heart to say anything negative.

The group proceeded to tell me some Dutch jokes as I sipped more of my wine. I laughed even though I didn't find the jokes terribly funny. Marjon passed the joint proudly as she was one who never got high. The joint continued to move from hand to hand and finally came back to me. I put my glass of wine down and took another long, slow drag. I held the smoke in my lungs and handed the joint over. Guy#1 sneered a comment in Dutch to Marjon.

"Ch'ien, are you okay?" questioned Marjon. "They're impressed you haven't conked out yet," she added as she pointed to the two hooligans.

I coughed the smoke out of my lungs. I gave the group a thumbs up and they cheered. I finally felt like I was being included with these guys. Finally! But my sense of triumph quickly faded as I watched the joint passed along to the next smoker. I felt my entire body grow numb. I started to hear a ringing in my ears. I saw Marjon looking back at me.

"Ch'ien, are you sure you're fine?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," I assured even though I wasn't sure at all.

When the joint got back to me for my third hit I was worried what would happen with another drag.

"Is our American friend done for the night?" Guy#1 mocked.

Not to be outdone I took the joint and took another hit. I quickly passed it along. I lost almost all my senses. I was completely immobilised.

"Ch'ien, seriously, are you okay?" Marjon's concern could no longer be held back.

I'm okay. I wanted to say. But I couldn't even speak. I blinked at her and smiled. The two Dutch hooligans gave themselves a high five and started laughing and speaking in their native tongue. Between my paralyzed state of mind and the ringing in my ears, I was left defenseless to their mocking. After much internal struggling, I finally managed a thumbs up and a wider smile. I sat there like a sad Asian wax figure. I couldn't move, yet I had never felt so relaxed.

When the blunt came back to me I couldn't even reach for it. I pathetically shook my head and looked over to Guy#1 to take it. I looked over to Marjon for help. She knew exactly what had to be done.

"Well, guys, thanks so much for having us over. Ch'ien and I should head back home because Farrah and my family are waiting for us at home for dinner," Marjon offered. I knew I loved her for a reason. "Ch'ien, are you ready?"

Yvette kindly helped me up and I instantaneously felt a shift in my stomach. I shook the guys' hands good-bye and kissed Yvette three times on alternating cheeks.

"Ch'ien, I can't believe you got so fucked up," Marjon whispered in my ear.
"I know... Sorry... Just give me two minutes okay? I need to use the toilet real quick," I replied.

I found my way back into their rest room and quickly pulled my pants down and sat on the toilet. I was so high my body was so relaxed I released what I thought was the biggest turd I ever let out of my body. I could have been on that show "I Didn't Even Know I Was Pregnant."

My body was like jelly. It took every ounce of strength to lift myself off the toilet seat to wipe my butt and buckle up my pants. I reached around to pull the flush chain and was puzzled when I didn't hear a flush even though the chain was in my hand... I had pulled it so hard that I pulled the entire chain off the tank! I looked into the toilet bowl and saw what could have been three dark aborted babies. I was horrified.

I turned around and turned on the faucet and tried cupping water into the toilet bowl to make everything go away. The chocolate babies weren't going anywhere. It needed the flushing suction from the tank. I tried looking into the tank but couldn't figure out such an old contraption.

"Ch'ien! Are you okay in there?" Marjon started knocking on the door.

I quickly unlocked the door and explained the situation to Marjon and she laughed so loud the others in the sitting room could hear.

"What's going on over there?" Yvette was curious.
"Oh my god. Don't tell them!" I pleaded to Marjon.

Marjon ignored my plea and responded to Yvette in Dutch. I wanted to die.

"Oh no worries, Ch'ien," Claude yelled from the sitting room.

I rushed into the sitting room and apologised like my life depended on it. The two hooligans had already started smoking a fresh joint. Were they too stoned to understand what had just happened?

Marjon and I laughed about the whole experience on our way back to her place. My shit was sitting two meters above the Amstel Canal that would eventually lead into the North Sea... That pot was seriously like no other shit I had ever had, literally. Would it be inappropriate for me to ask Claude and Yvette for more at the wedding two days later even though I clogged their only bathroom in their houseboat?


*****

I honestly look back fondly on my days of drug use, like I was living vicariously through a younger brother I never had. I'm glad I experienced them and feel lucky I was able to move on. When I see my old coke dealer, Cupcake, out at bars, I'm proud that I no longer slide over to him to ask for a "slice of pizza."

I graduated BU Magna Cum Laude. Drugs have also never interfered with my professional life either, for the most part...

When my good friend Joe accepted the fact he was an alcoholic, it was a time for me to reflect on my own addictions and I decided to cut out the hard drugs from my life. In my travels overseas, I played with the devil by trying out all sorts of drugs. But in my travels overseas, I have also been extremely fortunate to have met so many friends who have acted as angels and guided me to a healthier lifestyle.

Now when I travel overseas, it's to find amazing hiking trails, compete in triathlons, swim in oceans, and to get high purely on adrenalin.

I still try and fly back to Amsterdam as much as I can. Marjon eventually gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Tijn, and she asked me to be his Fairy God Mother. Lady, please, Fairy God Mother's can still play in the Red Light District's coffee shops for some good ol' Space Cake!