After a stop at a country store near a small town in the heart of Oregon's Blue Mountains. A bumper sticker reading "Where were the flashbacks I was promised" reminded him of home. The little town served as his own little witness protection program. He wasn't hiding out from criminals or the law he was mostly just paranoid because I legal status of the past. It was time for the adventures I'm stupidity to continue. The bowling alley was that temporary return to adolescent careless thinking. A strange little world of misfits was waiting for those who have been sucked in to return. The bumper sticker reminded him of the end of what he referred to as the acid adventures.
Now at a bowling alley where everyone might have a little misadventure of a rebellious past the story would just be in a long list of similar tales. The acid days probably only lasted a month or two. Hallucinogenic drugs have a limited profitability for a station market. It is usually an every once in a while thing. The way to make money would either to be a chemist or on the retail end traveling with festivals would likely be the most productive. Most people don't like things that get them beyond a controlled high for the better part of a day. It just isn't practical in most people's lives. During the acid days Alex was more likely to interpret the intent of an abstract artist than pay attention to more serious aspects of life. This resulted in forgetting to show up for court. One morning Alex and one of his friends stopped by the planned parenthood clinic and filled their coat pockets with free condoms from the counter. They would hand them out to all their friends who might have been too bashful to go in on their own. Alex had ended up cruising around aimlessly with a car full of friend after giving them all acid. He had taken a few hits himself also. The car was pulled over for something or other and Alex learned of his missed court date. He was taken to the local jail but was to be transferred to another small town to the west.
The police searched him and found the coat pockets full of condoms and other trinkets picked up on acid adventures. He probably had five lighters an a host of odd trinkets. Alex starred at the arresting officer with intensity while being booked into jail. The officer acted nervous bordering on fear. Alex wasn't trying to be intense but he had to focus to answer questions without drifting off. Alex was especially concerned because their was a quarter sheet or 25 hits of acid folded up in his wallet. It was some kind of picture that looked like a business card. The officer inspected it and put it back in the wallet after cataloging it with other clothing and personal items. Alex was then transferred to the other jail which was larger and held ten inmates per cell. The guards had an office in the center where they could easily monitor the inmates. After the degrading strip and cavity search Alex was issued his standard Bob Barker prison apparel and sandals. Bob Barker seems to make everything for some jails. After the search Alex was allowed to look through his personal items to make sure nothing was missing. He removed the quarter sheet of acid and put it in the elastic part of the prison pants. He talked to some of the inmates curious of what he was in for and invited to play a game of spades. Spades is a card game most commonly played in American jails and prisons. Later in the evening after getting to know some of the inmates he revealed to the guy who seemed most in charge as far as inmates go about the acid. In hindsight he probably should have just flushed it. He gave the other nine inmates inside the cell a hit and took three himself and then flushed the rest. Alex went to sleep he had become immune to the effects. The other inmates were up all night behaving oddly. One of them was straight out of Mexico and didn't think a piece of paper would have such an effect.
During the inmates trip he had began to believe that Alex was the devil and had plotted to kill him. The other inmates stopped him and explained that Alex had told them exactly what the drug could do. Alex was unaware of this until the next day. The odd behavior lead to a search of the cells the next day. Perhaps that was his moment of clarity as far as pushing the envelope. He knew he had an addictive personality and would limit his excesses to cannabis and coffee. Everything else was just a little too much. This is what drove Alex to hideout every once in a while. The thought of being captured and having his life ran for him was a good way of staying out of trouble. It was in his nature to be a rebel. He figured growing cannabis allowed him to be a rebel while being able to control the risks. Some of the other trades like cocaine were much higher risk with mote dangerous consequences and clients. Frued and other respected people in medical fields did not consider cocaine addictive. They believed it cured the addiction to the more potent opium based drugs. They often treated addiction with it strangely enough. Alex was going to make a stop at a bowling alley in a small town in Oregon just before crossing the Columbia River into Washington State. He just wanted to play a couple of games and see what type of rust he was dealing with. The first throw was a gutter ball. The lane was well used and his two fingered style with a house ball had too much spin. He switched to a more traditional three fingered grip keeping the wrist bent for mild spin. Some old school enthusiast had made their way to the jukebox and put on Tom Tom Club's "Genius of Love". He had gotten cabin fever trying to escape cabin fever. Maybe that's why he thought of that strange time. Telling someone straight laced a drug story like that might cause them to perceive an individual differently but it was just another chuckle to the misfits of the bowling alley. There was what appeared to be the aftermath of a Mexican food flowering into the bowling alley. Mexican weddings are a lot of fun especially with live bands. They really go all out. It reminded him of a joking expression of a friend "Busier than a set of jumper cables at a Mexican wedding". The underlying truth behind the stereotype could bring a smile to anyone's face. Alex finished up his three games averaging 130 after a very ruff start. He was where he left off. He would just shoe up on Sunday as if he had always been there.
The bowling alley was always just about the same with the occasional long overdue upgrade. A blast from the past just like himself. He wondered if his friends were still gossiping about him telling their version of shared adventures. Maybe this time Alex would put in some more practice time by joining a league during the week. His anti conformist attitude often kept him from taking part in organized activities. He wanted to get back to his old life. He tried to get out but that old plant had drug him back in. This year he would break out the more rare strains that were often avoided because of overwhelming smell. People would know what type of couch lock they were in for before removing it from his pocket.