By Michael Kirkpatrick
Fort Collins to Truckee, California in a normal car takes 14 hours. For us, rolling at a blistering 38mph, 1,000 miles to the Sierra lasted more than 24 hours. In 2006, we had a crew of eight, three of us qualified to captain The Holler! Bus, a half-sized Blue Bird salvaged from the Poudre School District with a super-shitty GMC 6.2L diesel motor. 24 hours was about eight shifts, divided by three drivers who just wanted to party. When your shift was over…the crew would scream “CAPTAIN’S HAPPY HOUR” and you would imbibe for 30 min. Your next shift would be in 6-8 hours.
Right, Captain’s Happy Hour is actually just 30 min–ample time to enjoy the intoxicants of your choice, but short enough that the odds of you being “good to go” in 8 hours are high. The culture revolved around what you were taking and when you would return to baseline consciousness. I stayed away from powder and pills. In those days, my Captain’s Happy Hour consisted of three Trippels, one Skinny Dip, and a bowl. Or, one Skinny Dip, two or three grams of dried Psilocybe Cubensis, and a joint. Being both driver and performer posed different considerations.
Arriving at the venue:
Load-in, soundcheck, dinner, performance, and load-out meant there were about nine hours before the driver had to haul the band to camp. Remember the rules: 30 minutes of consumption, then stop. For us, safety was as important as getting fucked up. Thankfully, no one got hurt employing this dangerous practice. When you are a young artist, overindulgence is part of the game. We were getting paid shit, so we took full advantage of bar tabs–and shit is what they got!
One time, I drank seven pints of Ninkasi in 30 min. My tummy didn’t feel so good and I was a sloppy mess on stage. My worst Captain’s Happy Hour was at Waxmyrtle Campground near Florence, OR. A cocktail of mushroom tea, whiskey, and Benadryl (I was stung by a yellow jacket) produced class five tunnel vision and paranoia. Pro tip: never combine antihistamines and psilocybin.
While testing the limits of consumption in my 20’s, I had profound realizations of how different substances affected my body and mind. Through Captains Happy Hour, I began to see the problems with alcohol and the magic of psychedelics. When I tripped, there was no sloppy behavior. I would examine my relationships with lovers, friends, family, and earth. The influence of alcohol produced an overblown ego where thoughtlessness and careless traits were amplified.
Sometimes it was more fun to get drunk. Tripping could be heavy: blades of grass through the cracks in the sidewalk produced tears of joy, I couldn’t stop thinking about my Mom and Dad, my hands craved purpose (a fretboard or someone’s feet), and I wanted to make love with everybody in the audience.
Alcohol made me gab, magic mushrooms took words from my lips. What can you say when language is fleeting? A reminder that a smile and embrace are the best forms of communication. Booze isolated and bottled me up, left me searching for more satisfaction, more drink. Psychedelics introduced me to the nature of existence and immediate experience. Breath. Contentment. Community. Thank you for teaching me, Captain’s Happy Hour.