I first took LSD in 1967 in Hollywood. My acid trip was life-changing and surprisingly fun. Here’s the story of my first trip and acid’s influence over me during my time with The Bubble Puppy.  

Rod Prince and I were visiting friends in Hollywood. We were there because we heard great things were happening in California musically. We had big ideas about starting a band. The flight to California was my first time in an airplane. We flew into L.A. at night, and I couldn’t believe how huge the city was. We flew for what seemed like forever once the city’s lights first appeared. 

The first thing we did after we landed was score acid. When we arrived at the dealer's house – a surprisingly lovely home for a dealer – he produced a bottle full of pills with the word “Sandoz” stamped on them. In other words, a major pharmaceutical company, Sandoz Laboratories, made our acid. LSD was still legal in 1967.

Our place in Hollywood was an old apartment complex with a pool in the middle. It was pretty cozy. Rod and I dropped the acid at the complex and sat by the pool. Rod had taken acid before, but it was my first. time, so I had no idea what to expect. However, Rod knew how to make the whole trip fun for me. 

For quite a while after we took the acid, nothing happened. There was a small tree near the pool.  Suddenly, I saw a section of its trunk balloon out to the right, then neatly bouncing back into place. It reminded me of something from a cartoon. I described what I had seen to Rod and asked him if that was the acid. He said, “That’s the acid!”       

The next few hours at the apartment were a blast. I had no fear and only had fun. Acid distorts time.

For instance, Rod stood at one end of the hall and threw a pillow at me. The pillow seemed to arrive at the exact moment he tossed it, and I collapsed in laughter. 

We listened to the second side of The Beatles Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. I was sure the lead track, George Harrison’s “Within You Without You,” was the most profound song ever written. We listened to the whole second side again. Afterward, we sat silently, trying to understand what George was trying to tell us. Acid amplifies every experience, especially music. 

Acid made everything we saw or touched brand new as if we were seeing it for the first time. For example, there was a Jade plant by the front door. I stared at it for ages, marveling at its beauty. It was like I had never seen a Jade plant before.

Eventually, we got hungry and went to the all-night grocery store. Rod and I were staring at cereal boxes on the shelf, trying to decide what to buy, when a box of Fruit Loops suddenly fell onto the floor. We hadn’t touched it. Unexpected, unexplained things are hallmarks of acid trips. 

Freaked out, we walked to the front of the store. When we arrived, the checker said, “Wanna play the game?” We wondered: What game? The game of life? What is he talking about? We were sure “the game” was something profound. On acid, everything gets magnified or blown out of proportion. As it turns out, the checker was talking about some silly game his store was promoting. 

An acid trip is all-encompassing. You use every fold, every square inch of your brain. Nothing prepares you for this exhausting experience.  The next day, none of us had anything to say. We had taken in all that our brains could handle. I remember being completely drained. After my first acid trip, nothing would ever look, feel, or be experienced in the same way again.        

Fast forward to 1969. The Bubble Puppy excelled at performing on acid. Since we were one of the first “jam” bands, we took anything we could to help us communicate while improvising.  We opened for many national acts while tripping. The shows were excellent until one night when the band collectively had a bad trip. Whatever happened probably wasn’t disastrous, but it led to a new rule: “No more acid at gigs.” I was disappointed. I was playing my ass off as usual, holding up my end of the show. Why did I have to quit? I didn’t like the new rule.  Without telling anyone, I took acid before our next performance at the Houston Coliseum.  To isolate myself from the audience and the rest of the band, I borrowed all the drums I could from fellow drummers and piled them around me. I couldn’t and didn’t want to see the audience. That night, I was on fire and shredded on the drums, and after my 10-minute-long solo, I got a standing ovation. Later,  back in the dressing room, the rest of the band sang my praises and congratulated me on my performance. I never told them I was high. (I guess they know now!)

Acid is fun until it isn’t. A bad trip can be frightening. Here’s the story of my last acid trip. I attended a party thrown by an up-and-coming Houston band, The Grits. Linda Waring was the Grits drummer. She was a great drummer, and we were friends. The party took place at the Grits’ second-floor apartment. Todd went to the party with me.  I had taken acid, and I was tripping hard, and the party was fun. Then I asked Linda where the bathroom was. She pointed to a door and said, “The bathroom is out that door.” I went to the door she indicated and opened it. I started to take a step but stopped because the door led to the house's exterior, and the staircase that was supposed to be there was missing. It was twenty feet straight down to the ground. I freaked out, not only because I had narrowly avoided serious injury or even death, but because I couldn’t understand why Linda would tell me to go out that door, knowing it was dangerous. Did she think she was being funny, or what? I couldn’t recover from the insanity of the experience. Todd had to spend the next few hours talking me down and making sure I was ok until the acid wore off. I never took LSD again.  I never confronted Linda about the incident.       

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