By Lucas Rowley
It was a summer day in the early nineties. Dr Dre’s album was out, everyone wanted to be a gangster, and Anchorage was blowing up with crime. I was hanging out with my crazy friends. Some of my memory is cloudy from this day, but I remember certain things clearly.
We got a hold of some extremely powerful crystal meth. During our binge we ambled down from our headquarters in Spenard to the Valley of the Moon Park. A branch of State employees was having a company picnic at the park. There were lots of white State trucks. My friend Travis started going crazy. He walked up to an older woman sunbathing in a bikini and started talking crazy. It was embarrassing, but funny. The meth kicked in high gear and my paranoia began. Travis got crazier, and we all saw a rainbow in the sky. He said there was money at the end of it and walked off towards it. He came back an hour later with $200 saying that he walked into a house and found it. We believed him.
By now the State employees were on to our shenanigans and began honing in on us. Suddenly the people in white trucks turned into DEA officers and we fled the park in a panic. I headed towards the water and found myself walking the train tracks. Up ahead I saw a huge UFO flying towards me, with strobing lights circling it’s dome shape. The loud horn made me realize just in time that it was actually a train coming towards me, and I leapt off of the tracks. I turned to find State employees following me. I ran into the marshes near Westchester lagoon and climbed a tree. I was at least thirty feet up, and began talking to the leaves, who had turned into tree people. I was so near the top of the large cottonwood tree that the wind was blowing me back and forth. Finally the branches gave out and I fell at least thirty feet to the ground. I’m not sure what kept my spine from cracking. Maybe it was the fact I was clawing at branches on the way down, or that I was engulfed in a methamphetamine fueled adrenalin surge. I landed flat on my back, knocking the wind from me and I lay there incapacitated.
My pursuers then found me. The Stat employee’s ended up being concerned citizens instead of DEA officers. They drove me to a friends house in the Turnagain neighborhood. I hid in their crawlspace for the next 15 hours. In the morning I walked home, shirtless with torn jeans and my tongue was covered in dry bumps. My mother screamed but accepted me into the house where I was nursed back to health over the next 24 hours with water, food and sleep.
Today I have been sober for eight years and have my own family. I still vividly remember those tree people, although I cannot recall what they were saying to me.