A favorite off-duty pastime for me and my friends at Fort Benning was to attend concerts both in Columbus and in Atlanta. Concerts in Columbus were usually scheduled at the Civic Auditorium. Concerts in Atlanta were scheduled at a number of venues. We went to a couple of concerts at the Fox Theater, we went to a few at the Peachtree Plaza, and at Center Stage on Peachtree Street. We had seen bands such as the Doobie Brothers, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Queen, Blue Oyster Cult, Angel, Toto, the Atlanta Rhythm Section, the Eagles, Bad Company, Aerosmith, and Kiss. One particular Saturday night, four of us carpooled to see Blue Oyster Cult in the Columbus Civic Auditorium. We drove into town a little early so that we could drink a few beers before attending the concert. When I say that we drank a few beers, I mean we drank at least a case of beer between us. It was probably more, but I wasn’t counting. I’m pretty sure that the other guys weren’t counting either. We were all just laughing, and talking, and drinking not necessarily in that order. When it came time for the opening act to begin to perform, we decided to head over to the auditorium. We found a parking space in the rather large parking lot and parked. We had purchased our tickets through the Fort Benning Morale, Welfare, and Recreation (MWR) ticket office, so all we had to do was go through the line with our tickets and find our seats. After the concert started, we worked our way down onto the floor to get close to the stage. That was what pretty much everybody did once the concert started. The donuts in uniform (police) were essentially helpless to do anything about crowd control because the crowd more or less became a mob. And when you’re shaped like a big jelly donut in the middle of an out-of-control mob, pretty much all you can do is rotate and spin. Well, I guess you could also sling some chocolate or maple frosting around or some sprinkles (teargas, mace or rubber bullets), but that wouldn’t be very nice. It might also upset a few people. So basically, the cops didn’t do much. As the evening progressed, more and more people in the crowd began to use assorted drugs. A lot of people were smoking wacky tobacky (weed). Quite a few people were doing acid. They claimed that the acid gave them a really great trip from the light show that Blue Oyster Cult used during their performance. We carried a couple of flasks of Scotch whiskey into the venue with us to help quench our thirst. That worked out pretty well. I think we also got a contact high from all of the marijuana that was being smoked in the auditorium. I won’t swear to it but it’s a pretty good bet. When the concert was finally over and the last encore had been played, we made our way to the exit. Since everybody else was also making their way to the exit, it took a while. Then, it took us a while to find the car in the parking lot. First, we had to swim through a myriad sea of people just to be able to search for the car. Finally, we found the car and got in. I started to inch out of my parking spot. Suddenly, we all heard a loud crash. The guys in the back seat yelled, “Jesus Christ! What in the hell did you hit?” I replied, “I don’t know? Are you sure I hit something? Cuz it sure as hell didn’t feel like I hit something.” My friend Bob replied, “We all heard it. You even heard it, didn’t you?” “Yeah. I thought I heard something. Shit. I better check. Hey Jim, open the glove box and get the flashlight out.” I took the flashlight and got out of the car. My three friends got out of the car as well. It looked like we were performing a Chinese fire drill. I turned on the flashlight and we walked all the way around that car. We inspected every inch of the car but found no damage. So, we got back into the car. I put the car into reverse and started to inch backward and again we heard a loud crash. The guys in the back again yelled, “Holy shit! I know you hit something this time.” Even Jim said, “I think they’re right. You definitely hit something this time.” So, we got out of the car again. Again, we circled the car looking for damage but found none. After inspecting the car, we got back in and backed out of our parking spot. This time we were able to back all the way out of our parking spot without incident. I started to move forward toward the parking lot exit. Suddenly, Jim yelled, “Stop!” So, I slammed on the brakes. Then, I turned to Jim and asked, “Jim why did you want me to stop?” “There was a car right in front of you.” “No there wasn’t. There is nobody in front of me. Are you okay?” “Hey man, I don’t feel so good.” “Yeah. I guess not. Not if you’re seeing shit that ain’t there. Can I go now?” “Yeah. Sure.” So, I put the car in gear and started to turn out of the parking lot. Then, Jim started screaming and crouched down in his seat. I said, “What in the hell is wrong with you now?” He didn’t answer and soon after Steve started screaming from the back seat. Steve’s behavior kind of freaked Bob out. Bob looked at me and said, “What in the hell is going on with these two?” I replied, “If I have this straight, you were drinking whiskey out of my flask, right?” “Yeah.” “Okay. That means Steve and Jim were sharing the other flask. But we filled the same whiskey into both flasks. That doesn’t make any sense. Whiskey doesn’t go bad in a flask. And I’ve seen both of those boys drink more than what they drank tonight and never act this weird before. Maybe we should stop at the Burger King and let them walk it off.” Five minutes later, we pulled into the Burger King. But neither Steve nor Jim could walk. They were too messed up to walk. What the hell. I had never seen some shit like this before. Bob said, “Maybe we should just get them back to base.” Right about then, Steve chimed in and said, “Back to base? How we going to go? Are we going to fly? I have wings. I can fly. Want to see me fly? Watch me fly.” I quickly grabbed a hold of him, and I said, “Hold on there, fella. Why don’t we all just go in my airplane.” And I lead him to my car. I looked at Bob and said, “See if you can get Jim into the other back seat.” Once we had both Steve and Jim in the back seat of the car, Bob and I got into the front seat. Then we headed back to base. Bob looked at me and asked, “What do you think is wrong with them?” I replied, “I don’t know man. The way they’re acting, it seems like they’re strung out on some kind of drug. Do you know if they shared their whiskey with anybody?” “Well, Jim was flirting with some chick that was kind of half dressed. You know. One of those Lucy goosey, hippie types. I know he gave her a cigarette. And he was getting awfully chummy with her. Maybe?” “That idiot. What a maroon. His hippie friend may have slipped him a Mickey.” “What is a Mickey?” “It’s a psychoactive drug or an incapacitating agent that someone slips into another person’s drink. In this particular case, Jim’s lady friend may have slid a blotter of acid into the whiskey. Hopefully, it was only one blotter. If it were more than that, Jim and Steve could be tripping for days. What’s more, they may not like the trip at all. I really don’t like friends I meet at a concert. Cuz they do stupid shit like this to unsuspecting people like us for shits and giggles. You know, we’re going to have to babysit these two all night to make sure that they’re okay.” “Swell. What a great ending to a wonderful night.” And that was how a slipped Mickey caused mayhem and madness in a parking lot and turned an otherwise fantastic concert into an exhausting exercise in futility.
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