On the Road to Find Out

ON THE ROAD

TO FIND OUT

JAMIE SLOAN

Glue Pot Press

ON THE ROAD TO FIND OUT

Revised Edition

Copyright © 2014 Jamie Sloan

All rights reserved.

www.jamiesloan.com

Published by Glue Pot Press

www.gluepotpress.com

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN-10: 0989839230

ISBN-13: 978-0-9898392-3-5

DEDICATION

To my father, thank you for the love and adventure you inscribed in the story of my soul. To Frank McGarahan, thank you for your gracious efforts of being a true gentleman; indeed, you lived exactly as such. To Jamie Sams, thank you for your good medicine, guidance and wisdom to walk The Beauty Way. To Sylvester, thank you for being a friend. And finally, thank you to The Elephant Sanctuary and all protectors and stewards of the natural free world.

In Lak’ech Ala K’in

Jamie Sloan

CONTENTS

1 Chapter AUSTRALIA 1

2 Chapter THAILAND/NEPAL 59

3 Chapter GREECE 119

4 Chapter ENGLAND/IRELAND 235

5 Chapter NEW YORK/NEW ORLEANS 295

on the road to find out

CHAPTER 1

Australia

Departure: Denver, Colorado

Winter, January 1998

On the Road to Find Out

The airport was all but deserted on that cold winter day. It was Super Bowl Sunday, and the Denver Broncos were playing for the championship…again. I walked through Denver International Airport wide-eyed and full of wonder. Excitement filled me as I was about to embark upon a world-traveling adventure. I had an around-the-world ticket in my pocket, which I had purchased for about $3200. The good news was I had the ticket of a lifetime; the bad news was I only had $368 remaining for the trip. I had worked around the clock for the past three months to save enough money to buy the ticket, after getting the idea from my best friend, Hunter, who lived in Australia. Her best schoolmate, Tina Boot, had done this years prior, and she had actually stayed with me in Denver for a month. Hunter encouraged me to go for it, and further encouraged me by offering me a job at her painting company. This way I could earn good money for the rest of the adventure. I took the idea and ran with it, and planned various travel destinations for at least six months. The first stop would be Sydney, to work for Hunter and to experience Mardi Gras Aussie style. Being from New Orleans, I had only one perspective of Mardi Gras, and I thought this would be a great addition to the experience.

My mother, a seasoned world traveler herself, along with a travel agent, helped me pick the destinations. I could fly up to 15 destinations so long as they were affiliated with the United Airlines partners routes, and so long as I continued in the same direction. I would begin by traveling west and, therefore, had to continue west. The moment I paid the $3200 in cash, I had open-date tickets for Australia, Thailand, Nepal, Greece, Germany, Portugal, England, Ireland, New York, New Orleans, and a return flight to Denver. I chose each destination within the guidelines of the flight partners and for personal reasons, also following some random suggestions. These were the tickets that I had, but who knew where I’d end up?

You begin with the first step and then allow the next to naturally follow. The first step towards experiencing this journey was merely having the idea that I could do it. Money was a factor, but I had planned to earn and save while abroad. I had two friends I would meet in their respective countries–Hunter in Australia and Tina in Greece–other than that, I was on my own. William Clarke summed it up for me in his quote, Faith dares the soul to go farther than it can see.

One month prior to departure, I began to write about my excitement about what lay ahead. I had felt a subtle shift within, as though I was somehow being prepared for the great unknown. I had surrendered to this unknown and have always believed in some kind of spiritual force of Divine Omnipotence. As a woman at age 27, I had been told that this was the beginning of a new era in my life. This was the time for the shedding of the child’s skin and the entering into womanhood. These next few years were to be the years where I would fully become the woman I was meant to be…and I was ready.

In the Beginning

In the early years of my life, I had been raised by a single father in New Orleans, with the help of his mother and two sisters. My mother divorced my father and left my brother and me before I was two years of age. My fate was to grow up quickly. By the time I was a teenager, I was well equipped with street smarts and knew to hold on to the last shreds of innocence. I enjoyed the simple things that most people seem to take for granted. Music soothed my soul, and nature was where I had always found the greatest happiness. Whether I was saving drowning butterflies from fountains or moving earthworms off hot sidewalks, I have always had great respect for the natural world. In a sense, nature had become my mother, and within it was where my senses were nurtured. I often found a deeper sense of peace when I was surrounded by the sublime stillness of nature’s womb.

My father remarried when I was eight, and my new family unit moved away from the city and closer to the bayous in East New Orleans. Behind our house were miles and miles of trees and waterways in all directions. This land was my playground and my peace. This was my church, and it was where I began to experience an understanding of something that was beyond me, but also something that was part of me. A sacred presence could be found in the song of the birds, in the smell of the dense woods and could be seen in the sunlight that danced upon the leaves of trees. I knew there was something special and sacred beyond the man-made world of asphalt and steel, and I knew that if ever I needed to find peace and comfort, it was in those woods. It’s the only place that seemed real.

In natural settings and environments, quiet stillness is poised as the backdrop for creation. In nature there is no distortion, and there are no lies. It just is. Visitors of nature can find clarity, for that is where it lives. For me, nature was the quickest connection to truth. Some may call the essence of clarity and stillness the presence of God. I didn’t know what to call it; I just knew it was there. As a child, I questioned the choices and decisions of most adults and authority figures. In their world, many things just didn’t make sense to me. The busy, polluted life of the city seemed abnormal, and television was an odd form of mind-numbing entertainment that obstructed free thought. The longer I was away from the great outdoors, the more restless I would become. But if I had to be indoors, I was usually found listening to the radio or to records on an old phonograph.

When I was13, my family left the city limits and moved again across Lake Pontchartrain to a newly developed suburban area on the north shore, which I absolutely detested. At the time, it was a country bumpkin kind of town that bred hunters and rednecks. I felt completely lost and totally out of place. In the two years that I spent in suburban Anywhere, USA, I knew of three suicides– and one just so happen to be our new next-door neighbor. In fact, my family passed the ambulance that he rode in after he’d shot himself. Through the back window, we could see the EMTs moving hastily over his limp body as our car turned onto our street, which was flanked with cookie-cutter houses. This place was depressing and I was gripped in its heaviness. Even then, at 13, I knew I had to get out of there. I knew for the sake of my life, that I would have to leave, or else I would end up just like my neighbor and schoolmates who had chosen to end their lives. I felt trapped by decisions that were made for me which were completely out of my control.

By the summer of my 15th year, I did leave Louisiana and moved to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado to live with my mother. My life has never been predictable or hardly set up with ease, so I began to tap into the silent knowing of things at a very young age and began to choose my directions instinctually. I didn’t have many friends, and certainly no one close enough to share my thoughts with, so I learned to listen to that small, discerning voice whenever there was a decision to be made. This, also, was how I was to spend the next six months of my life while traveling abroad. I now had a ticket to experience life beyond the boundaries of an American mentality and perception.

As It Is Written

Before going abroad, I purchased a few necessary items. One was a small leather-bound pocket-size journal. The first words I wrote before departure were, negative thought patterns stem from fear. Flip those thoughts and trust. The Universe will protect me and God IS Love. It was New Year’s Eve, and I spent the night alone, as I was somewhat incapacitated by the flu. I mustered up the energy that night to sit in a quiet space and read from the Native American teachings and writing of Jamie Sams. Her books, Medicine Cards and Sacred Path Cards were always great tools to get positive insight. As she states in her prologue, The medicine referred to in this book is anything that improves one’s connection to the Great Mystery and to all life. I had chosen to do a Sacred Path spread in conjunction with the Medicine Cards that evening, and was slightly bewildered about the final card drawn in the Sacred Mountain Spread. It was that of the Storyteller. The storyteller card speaks of expansion on all levels. Expansion occurs when people are allowed to grow at their own rate and with their own understanding. It was good medicine, but it wouldn’t be until many years later that I would fully appreciate and understand this card.

I wanted to save the blank pages of my new journal for the trip; however, I did write about the personal events of that New Year’s Eve. The second journal entry I had written was the chorus of the Paul Simon song Slip Slidin’ Away. This little leather-bound journal was soon to be a book of journeys.

Slip Slidin’ Away

The month of January had flown by, and it was finally time to go. My mother had driven me to the airport, and due to my excitement, I barely noticed that the Paul Simon song, Slip Slidin’ Away was playing on the radio. When we arrived at the airport, I hugged and kissed my mother good-bye and she smiled with excitement for me and said, Remember, when in Rome, be a Roman! I love you, and have fun!

By the time I checked my backpack, boarded the plane, and sat in the window seat, the football game was already in halftime. The pilot announced the score, and people cheered as the home team took the lead. The music resumed over the airplane speakers. Once again, the same Paul Simon song was now playing overhead. I smiled with a deep sense of trust for what was to come, as I gazed out the window and became filled with thoughts about the unknown which lay before me.

When I was a child, my great-grandfather taught me that life had a voice. Not necessarily a people speaking voice, but there were always signs and incidents that would occur and I was encouraged to listen to life and to hear its voice with my soul. I found that life had usually spoken loudest when I was in some type of creative action. It was a silent knowing, and I trusted that no matter where I was, the spirit of life was truly with me.

To some, the repetition of that Paul Simon song would be merely a coincidence. For me it was life speaking in mystery. It was another example of a life-affirming situation, as if it were a gentle guide to usher the next step. As I have grown older I have tuned in to the messages, trusting that there’s some greater force behind all that is. I have always loved and enjoyed its sacred presence and its uncanny ability to appear somehow, some way, at just the right moment. Whether it was the presence of an animal, the words from a stranger or a song lyric that moved me into a new thought, a message always appeared at an opportune moment to help me to realize that, indeed, I was never alone.

Arrival: Sydney, Australia-Oz

Summer, January, 1998

Down Under

Upon landing after an arduous 24 hours of travel, I gathered my things, put on my Rastafarian knit cap, and walked off the plane towards customs. It was 7:30 a.m., and I awaited my turn to enter into the land down under. While standing in line, I felt a cold nudge on my legs. I looked down and to my surprise, a German shepherd was sniffing me like I was a steak or maybe a finely rolled joint. Perhaps the Rasta cap was an identifiable feature of a drug smuggler. The guard who held the dog said, ‘Allo, welcome to Oz, as his smile grew when the dog’s nose aimed right for my crotch. Now that’s quite a welcome, I said and looked down at the shepherd and continued, Sorry, I don’t have what you’re looking for.

The agent and I both giggled, and then it was my turn to pass through the gates of customs. I saw my best friend, Hunter, on the other side of the terminal, standing with a big, excited grin. We hadn’t seen each other in over three years, since my last visit to Oz. I had made the journey to Australia once prior to visit Hunter and stayed with her for a month. We first met when Hunter had lived in Colorado for a few years, until she got the call from her father to come back home to Oz. She was also requested to take a keen interest in the family business. She did, and she realized that her interest wasn’t so keen after all, so she started a painting business and was doing pretty well running it herself.

I was finally through the gates, and we hastily moved towards each other. We hugged and laughed like schoolgirls on our first day of summer vacation. In true Aussie fashion, Hunter had already been to the liquor store for a couple of bottles of champagne. We immediately headed to her place, which was situated near Bondi Beach. She lived in a rather large two bedroom flat on the top floor of an apartment building. The neighborhood was quiet, and the beach was only a few blocks away. Get into your summer clothes, and let’s go to the beach, Lovey! Hunter exclaimed, as soon as I dropped my pack in what was to be my bedroom.

I changed my clothes, and after a champagne toast to our time together, she hurried me back into her BMW and whisked me away, but in the opposite direction of the beach. Where are we going? I asked. To get you cleaned up. You’re in Oz now, and you have to look the part. I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. I shrugged off any insult that may have been insinuated in the statement and soon remembered my mother’s traveling advice: When in Rome, be a Roman. Okay, I thought, I’m in Oz, so it’s time to be an Aussie.

Next thing I knew, I was sitting in a barber’s chair with a hot steam towel on my face and the smell of men’s aftershave in my nose. In no time at all, my hair had been cropped short, and I had very relaxed shoulders. The barber treated me like any other customer, but he had thankfully spared me the shave. I guessed going to the barber shop was Hunter’s idea of getting me cleaned up.

From there, we headed to the beach. By this time, it was mid-day. All of the pubs on the strip had their tables out and umbrellas opened. Twenty-four hours prior, I was layered in shirts and sweaters in the biting winter cold of Colorado. Now here I was, white as an Easter lily, sitting in the hot summer sunshine down under.

Once on the strip, the champagne continued, as did the oysters and lobster. We watched people walk, skate, and drive down the main drag of Bondi Beach. Hunter began to ask about the rest of my destinations. I told her that I was going to be in her original homeland of Ireland via England. My father had told me stories about Sloan’s Castle when I was a kid, and I was on a mission to find it. I asked if she knew of it, and she said that she never heard of it, but to ask her former roommate, Pieter, who was from Ireland. Maybe he would know where it was.

We carried on and chatted about past times and memories and giggled as we relived them together. Hunter had a mobile phone which rang often. I gave her much guff about the cellular device, because I thought it was an intrusive accessory. Phones should be at home, not everywhere you go. It’s a constant distraction from the present moment, don’t you think? I protested. She chided back, saying, Get used to it. This is the way of the future, and everyone is going to have one someday. Aw, to hell with that! I won’t have one! That would just be annoying, I replied. She laughed as her phone rang again, and this time she answered it with a smile. After a few grotesquely sweet exchanges of words, she hung up and informed me that her girlfriend was on her way to meet us.

That was the end of our trip down memory lane, and now came the reality of a new day. Sally, Hunter’s latest girlfriend, was a boisterous bubbly faux redhead who had welcomed me into their world, upon introduction. It was no longer me and Hunter, it was me and them. I was a little reserved with Sally, and I instantly felt a bit uneasy in her presence. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what was bothering me and thought perhaps it was my own insecurity. I brushed the feeling aside and began trying to get used to sharing my time and space with a new, unexpected host.

Intuition is one of those things that we all possess; yet, we can either work at developing it or unwittingly ignore its existence. I was aware of the unsettled feeling inside when I was around Sally, but because I couldn’t explain it, I put aside my reservations and accepted this new reality at face value. The next six months would assuredly help me develop intuition, without much of a choice but to pay attention. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was indeed the first test of many upon this journey…and she was a tricky one.

Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood

The first few days with the girls were very fun. We planted flowers in Sally’s garden, swam in the ocean together, and feasted on a few home-cooked meals. Sally had a yellow Labrador named Henry that would soon become my new best friend in Oz. Whenever third-wheel syndrome arose, I would play with Henry or take him for a walk. We were all enjoying the beginnings of summer vacation together, and the girls were very sweet and generous to me. It was a fantastic time, and it felt good to be there.

Everything changed late one evening when we all decided to take a stroll down the beach. Hunter had to use the toilet, so we headed towards the public restrooms by the seaside. After Hunter went inside the enclosed structure, a large, disheveled man came out of the darkness and walked towards Sally and me. Sally stood with her back towards the stranger, and I instinctively tried to create a diversion and stepped very close to Sally to make it appear like we were involved in private conversation. I stood before Sally as I watched the bearded man walk past us and under the nearby footbridge into the dark of the night. Within moments, Hunter came out and saw me standing very close to Sally, she shot me a look before asking accusatorily, What are you two doing? Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Sally’s hand and they began to quickly walk away. I tried to explain the creepy man walking towards us, but he was already gone, and there was no proof of his existence. I could see wicked suspicion in Hunter’s eyes. She questioned my behavior as if I was on trial, and the result led to the beginnings of a grand misunderstanding.

I had no romantic interest in Sally whatsoever, but due to Hunter’s choice of perception, I was now a threat to their relationship. I tried repeatedly to explain what had just happened and how it was all a misperception, but Hunter refused to listen. They walked briskly ahead of me hand and hand towards the car. Hunter chose not to speak to me for the rest of that evening. In fact, we drove to Hunter’s flat, where I was dropped off, and they continued on to Sally’s house. I could see by Hunter’s disposition that the drama had begun, and that it would be very difficult to change her mind in regards to what she thought she saw.

I was disheartened and felt falsely accused. I didn’t hear from Hunter for most of the next day. I waited for her to call her flat, but she didn’t until late that afternoon. I tried to explain again what had happened at the beach, but she insisted that what she saw had been my inappropriate behavior. I had known Hunter for many years, and we had experienced some trying times in the past, but I knew that once her mind was set on something, then that was it. My words could not penetrate her stubbornness. My heart hurt, and I felt at a loss.

Hunter began to stay at Sally’s house regularly, while I stayed alone at the flat. Already I began to have thoughts of moving on to my next destination. However, I was by no means ready or able to do so. There was money to be made, and I still needed to get my inoculations and prepare for future excursions in Nepal.

One day, I called Hunter’s mobile phone and tried to reach out to her again, but this time she mowed right over my attempts and began to exclaim her excitement about a new painting job that she’d been offered. She asked me to help her on the job. I accepted without hesitation, hoping that her grudge had worn off. She told me that we’d start at 7 a.m. the next day and to be ready when she came to pick me up. I felt good that she wanted to finally include me and had offered to pay me for the job. I needed to make money for the rest of the trip, and my funds were already shrinking rapidly. I hoped that she had shrugged off her assumptions from that evening at the beach and was ready to have good times with me again.

Paint it Black

We arrived at the work site, and it seemed like a rather big job. There was a fair amount of trim work and many walls to paint. I had never painted a structure before, so Hunter had to show me much of what to do. After half a day of work, I could see the difference in our labor. Much of my portion was in need of repainting. I could sense Hunter’s frustration with my ineptitude and errors. By the end of the job, she had difficulty paying me because of the many mistakes that she’d had to correct. She told me that it cost her too much to hire me and that she didn’t think it would work out between us as painting partners. I understood her business decision but felt awful about it.

Distance between us continued to grow after she dropped me off at her flat. She suggested that I start looking and asking around for more work and then drove away, only to return to Sally’s house. Fear swept over me like a storm. Here I was in a foreign country in need of money, and the only person I knew had reneged on our plans and no longer wanted to even be friends with me. I felt thankful to have a place to stay, but I also was scared and I felt alone and rejected. I dreaded the thought, much less the act, of trying to gain temporary employment in a foreign country. Many days went by, and I would walk random routes to the beach and sit on cliff sides and write. I had also begun reading books about spiritual awakenings and experiences. I felt that if there was anything I needed at that time, it was guidance and direction.

I considered leaving Australia, but I needed more traveling funds, inoculations for Nepal, and Mardi Gras was only a couple of weeks away. That was an experience I intended to have. Hunter began trying to overcome her doubts about me and had started inviting me out to social functions with her and Sally. There was always some type of haughty event happening in association with Mardi Gras. What was also so great about this Mardi Gras party compared to the one in New Orleans, was that Mardi Gras in Oz was hosted by the LGBT community of Sydney, and so Mardi Gras was their Gay Pride celebration as well. Many people of all types would come to this massive event, but it was the Queers of Oz who made this party so spectacular.

Rhythm of the Night

We attended a brilliant Mardi Gras kickoff party on the steps of the Sydney Opera House. There were didgeridoo players, drummers, and a beautiful crescent moon, which together elevated the spirits of the many thousands of people who attended. Afterwards, we carried onto different clubs and pubs and I was introduced to some of Hunter’s friends. I finally met Pieter, Hunter’s former roommate from Ireland and asked if he knew about Sloan’s Castle. He also retorted that he had never heard of it. I wasn’t discouraged, but I did wonder if it really existed.

Hunter did a fine job of introducing me to many people she knew. I did my best to network with others to find a paying gig. This proved promising, as I was promptly hired on the spot by a frenzied gay florist named Andy. I was to help with flower arrangements, deliveries, and event planning. Unfortunately, this work was only available on an on-call basis a few days a week. Even so, it was a great opportunity to make good money and more connections. I still had to eat, and going out was always a pricy endeavor in Sydney. The odds were not in my favor, but I was determined to make it work and still have fun.

Hunter had many friends and acquaintances who were involved with the Mardi Gras celebration. Later that night, we went to another club where I was introduced to some DJs. Upon conversation with a group of them, I mentioned that I had a university degree as an audio engineer and had spun vinyl for a few years at a college radio station back in the States. That’s when a great connection was made. I was told by one of the DJs, Kate, that there just so happened to be a gay radio station in Sydney, where she volunteered, called OUT FM.

The station was in need of some production assistance, and Kate suggested that I come down and perhaps lend a hand. All of the official positions were filled by community volunteers; however, I thought it was still a great opportunity to meet more like-minded people. The possibility of DJing across the airwaves of Oz absolutely thrilled me. Of course, I had made sure to bring a collection of my favorite tracks along with me on this journey. As I mentioned, music was as important to my sanity as was nature; therefore, I had CDs, a Sony Discman, and a large pack of batteries.

That same evening, I was introduced to Bella, another club DJ, and we instantly hit it off. She was spinning vinyl in the lounge area throughout the evening, and we chatted in between her sets. She had extended an invitation for me to check out her DJ studio. I was ecstatic to have met someone who not only shared similar interests but who was also kind and unpretentious in this crowd of queens. I wrote down Bella’s phone number and told her that I’d give her a call.

The energy in the club was electric, and people were chatting, dancing, and enjoying the rhythms of the night. Hunter and Sally had once again disappeared into the crowd, and so I went to the bar, where a young man had accidentally bumped into me. He pardoned himself and complimented my features as closely resembling the actress Jodie Foster. Has anyone ever told you that before? he asked.

The comparison had actually begun in the mid 1970s, when movies starring Jodie Foster were in the theaters. Movies like Freaky Friday and Candleshoe, in particular. We shared a laugh together when I told him that once as a kid, a librarian asked me for my autograph. My father played along and said, Now Jodie, don’t be shy, give the nice lady your autograph. The jig was up when I innocently turned and said to my father, Okay, but how do you spell Jodie?

Of course the young bloke knew I was an American at the onset of our brief conversation, but he was nice enough to welcome me to Oz. I thanked him and said, If this is the only time our paths shall cross, then what would you want for me to hear you say? He looked me dead in the eye, put his hands on my shoulders and said, ‘To thine own self be true.’ William Shakespeare. He smiled warmly, kissed my forehead, and then also disappeared into the massive crowd. I stood content and then wrote the quote on a matchbook and stuffed it in my pocket. This was proving to be a truly great night thus far. Already I had gained part-time employment, a new friend, and words to live by.

White Lines

The dance floor was the place to be, and there were beautiful people moving their bodies everywhere and in all directions. As I made my way to the loo, I saw a pair of eyes staring back at me. I recognized them as the same eyes from an embroidered t-shirt I had at home. They were the Compassionate Eyes of Buddha. The girl walking in front of me had the same eyes tattooed on the back of her neck. The recognition made me smile, and I leaned in to whisper a compliment about the artwork. She turned and smiled at me so tenderly that it caused my grin to expand from the inside out. She responded in a whisper, Thank you, and continued on.

Eventually, I found the restroom and, in turn, also found Hunter and Sally. It was in that moment when I became aware that there was more to Hunter and Sally’s relationship than met the eye. They were both huddled over a toilet in the putrid hovel sniffing lines of cocaine like it was a bouquet of flowers. The bells of intuition began chiming, and now I understood why I had felt so uneasy around Sally. I was quite aware of the effects of cocaine from my years as a young adult in my mother’s mountain home. While growing up in the Rocky Mountains of Breckenridge, Colorado, I soon became aware that there were more bumps of white powder around town than on the ski slopes.

When I was a teenager, I found out that my mother used cocaine frequently. I was familiar with the erratic moody behaviors that came with its use, and it usually wasn’t pretty. I had actually tried coke once before, but I didn’t like it. It wasn’t my drug of choice. However, if it had been a spliff, I probably would have joined them. So it wasn’t for me to criticize or judge their behavior. Cocaine wasn’t my thing, but I certainly didn’t want to suffer the repercussions of its presence either. I was quite aware that things had the potential to become a bit more dramatized because of the drugs and alcohol, and I wanted to steer clear of that by all means necessary. They asked if I wanted any, and I politely declined and told them I’d meet them at the bar.

The relationship between the three of us started to become much clearer to me. Seeing this behavior helped explain Hunter’s distance towards me better than she ever could have. Even though I was disappointed to learn about the presence of the devil’s dandruff, I felt better knowing the truth. It helped me to release the feelings of self-doubt and guilt that I’d held since the beach and painting incidents. I could let go of all that now and was finally able to accept things as they were, me as I was and them exactly how they were. I was relieved to learn that I was not the source of the problem between the three of us. There was much more influencing our relationship than I had previously realized.

Connected

The following day, I had made my way down to the radio station and immediately saw the cute DJ from the club, Kate. The place was bustling with volunteers, but I summoned my courage to approach and say hello. Kate greeted me with a much welcomed hug, and she soon introduced me to the station’s program director. I was well-received and was quickly escorted to the production computer in the studio and was asked to record a commercial for immediate airplay. I accepted the challenge and was lucky enough to work with Kate all afternoon. That’s where my crush on her intensified.

During my first visit to Sydney three years prior, I had actually seen Kate DJing at a nightclub. I really liked her style and was instantly attracted to her. Now here we were three years later recording announcements together for a queer Australian radio station. It felt amazing to be a part of such a huge, welcomed national event. The energy was not only electric, but contagious.

Within a couple of hours, I had recorded, mixed, and edited a promotional advertisement for the station and handed it to the program director. She was so impressed that she immediately brought me on board as part of the crew and handed me an official station badge as production manager. Upon my request to DJ on-air for the radio station, I was also offered a few midnight shifts. Little by little and effort by effort, I began manifesting the creations I had intended.

Later, because of my contribution to the station, I was given an All-Access Pass to the Mardi Gras parade and party. I was elated because the pass saved me a huge amount of money that I would have had to spend in order to buy a ticket to the event. I now would get to attend the party for free, and the pass gave me all-access to the parade as well. The massive event was in a couple of weeks and my work with Andy, the mad florists, had begun. One day, I told Andy about my audio engineering experience. Within days he introduced me to Derrick, who owned a sound and lighting rental shop.

I was heavily trained as a sound technician and knew I could be of use to Derrick’s business. He tried me out, and I was soon hired as part of the Mardi Gras tech crew. I assisted in installing audio and lighting gear to many of the stages and DJ booths. There were to be over fifty DJs spinning throughout the festivities, and we had some interesting sound and light designs to bring together in a short amount of time. I crawled, climbed, and scaled the insides of large, filthy buildings to run cables. I hung lights from the rafters and even speakers in the toilet areas. It was very hard work that was both physically and mentally demanding, but I willingly accepted the challenge as an integral part of the grand experience.

I found Mardi Gras season to be very exciting and there were always parties to attend and places to go. Hunter and Sally were still doing their thing together, but they did extend invitations throughout the passing weeks. There was plenty of fun being had, yet no matter what event, there were also plenty of drugs around. This was the part of Rome where I did not wish to be a Roman. I’d have a few drinks and occasionally smoke a joint, but the powders and chemicals were skulls and crossbones to me.

Cat and Canary

One evening the girls had taken me to a multilevel club filled with song and dance. Each level featured an event. The ride began in the basement with a variety show of sorts. Hunter saw a mate and introduced me to a female contingency of partygoers. The Daddy, you could say, opened her jacket and proceeded to light and pass torpedo-size joints. The entire basement of the club was filled with the scent of a good old-fashioned clam bake! There was wine, women, and weed, and at least 10 joints were simultaneously being passed around the room. This was quite a different nightlife experience than I was used to in the States.

Finally, the lights went out and the show began. A girl dressed as a bird stood behind the illusion of a cage. The sound of bird tweets rang throughout the room. At the drop of the bass, a little vixen crept onto the stage in the guise of a cat. The act became what was to be my first live sex show, by females for females. I sat in amazement with a Cheshire Cat grin. The room was filled with lust, smoke, and women. I watched them all. I watched the egos and the angels interact. This was hedonism on a whole new level for me. It was an experience I wouldn’t soon forget.

Goody Two Shoes

The girls and I carried on and we made it up to the main floor where Kate was mixing the beats for the night. The dance floor was on fire with action. At one point in the evening, I sat with Hunter and Sally at a table that I noticed was very popular amongst the partygoers. There were two guys also at this table with pen and paper in hand writing down names and orders. I sat in awe and watched the demand from many people for specific kinds and amounts of drugs. Sleep wasn’t really an option during the party, so the requests were for sustaining the ride of the three-day-weekend affair.

Many people paid for cocaine and ecstasy, and soon the dealers disappeared until it was time for the rendezvous exchange. I had never seen this level of use and demand before and nobody thought it bizarre or unusual. Actually, it was quite commonplace for them, but slightly sad to me. I was told by Hunter and Sally that there was no way I could make it the entire weekend without some chemical assistance, and therefore was told to place an order. As it was, I had very little money to spend, much less on stuff that I didn’t even want. Buying drugs was not an option for me.

Hunter and I soon got into a heated debate over the subject. In fact, a few nights later as we were heading out to a club from Sally’s house, Hunter put her foot up to block the doorway and said, We’re not going anywhere until you do a bump of coke. I looked at her and asked, Are you serious? She said to stop being a goody two shoes and be like the rest of them and snort a line. I had no desire whatsoever to snort cocaine. I was perfectly fine with their choices, but Hunter had pushed me too far on this one by disregarding my choice not to partake. I was livid from the ultimatum and sat in defiance for almost two hours in disbelief of what was happening. We argued continuously back and forth. I was extremely disappointed in someone I thought was my friend, but I really wanted to go to the club because Kate was headlining and I knew she would deliver a fabulous night for dancing. I just wanted to dance and