My Trip With Magic Mushrooms

By Margie Keane

The instant I stepped off the Golden Gate Bridge, I knew Timothy Leary was a liar! He said take enough magic mushrooms and you can fly. Or did he say I would feel like flying? Well, too late now.

I wanted to fly up and grab a star, to soar around the earth but that’s not happening. Maybe I should confess my sins while there’s still time.

God, please forgive me for all my sins. I don’t know if free love is a sin. One of the commandments is “love thy neighbor as thy self, and that’s what I’ve been doing, or maybe not, but what’s the difference between free love and fornication? Oh well, too late now.

I know I have caused my parents pain. They didn’t want me to come to Berkeley, said I’d get into trouble. Maybe if they had given me some freedom when I was in high school I might have handled things better. Maybe if I had stayed in my dorm instead of listening to my friend Janie when she said “Let’s move to a pad on Fillmore Street.” I have to say it was a blast, all that grass and Boone’s farm … I can hear my parents now, mother whining, “I’ll be disgraced! The women in the Episcopal church Ladies Friendly Society will shun me!” Poor Mom. Dad will be ticked because he wasted all that money on my education, but he can’t yell at me because I’ll be dead – and not grateful either!

So, God if you could please forgive these sins, oh, and I haven’t gone to church, but I prayed a lot, especially after I moved to the Fillmore.

I wonder if my profs will give me incompletes instead of failing me. They should. It’s because of a member of their profession that I’m plummeting down like a gooney bird.

Oh, no! Sorry mom, I forgot to put on clean underwear!

If my boy friend Ted were with me I wouldn’t feel so scared. He’s probably stoned, or making it with that slut Cleo! She’s been trying to get in his pants for weeks.

I wonder if there are sharks in the bay. I hope not. I want to be buried in one piece. I don’t want the epitaph on my tombstone to say “Here lay some pieces of Betsy.”

Wow! Here’s the water. My feet are touching, all of me, going under, bubbles all around me, a vapor wrapping around me I…

What’s happening? I’m not sinking any more. What are these silver things floating next to me, hanging on to me?

   “Who are you?”

   “I’m Faith.”

   “I’m Hope.”

   “Yeah, yeah, and you! Grabbing my leg! I’ll bet you’re Charity, right?”

   “You crazy? My name’s Lowanda. Listen girl, I was workin’ on my second bowl of ambrosia when we got the call.”

“What call?”

“The call to come down here and get your sorry ass. Well, Not your ass so much, we’re here to get your soul.”

“You mean I’m going to heaven?”

“You get a try-out. See, God knows that you weren’t trying to kill yourself when you jumped off the bridge, right?”

“Right, I thought I could fly. Timothy Leary says acid lets you fly. What a joke!”

“Yeah that guy is causin’ us a lot of extra work. So anyway, God’s gonna give you some wings and then see how you do.”

“You mean, I get to fly?”

“Do I look like a pack mule? You comin’ with us you best be flying.”

“Let’s go, ladies, we need to give her a jump start.”

   We shoot to the surface and I start flapping my arms. I’m flying! I’m really flying! Look, Mom and Daddy, I can fly! I’m an angel, Mom, so tell that to the Episcopal Ladies Friendly Society!

“Come on Lowanda, I’ll race you to the stars.”

Epilogue

A story appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle about a strange phenomenon. It said in part: “Many people who witnessed a jump from the Golden Gate Bridge last night said they saw a strange sight. Supposedly four vaporous forms emerged from the water at the exact spot the jumper went in. They all agreed that the forms ascended up into the stars. A nun from Our Lady Star of the Sea Convent said she was sure they were angels. The Vatican is sending Archbishop O’Malley to investigate the incident.”