Words of warning, the next few parts to this story can get a bit graphic. There will be high drug content and some unsavory actions by both myself and the people around me. If you have delicate sensibilities please do not read any further
 
For those of you that are wondering why people started calling me Ducky, here’s a bit of a background. The name Anne that I had been going by I mentioned came from a girl I knew in school. Her full name was Anne Nicole Duckworth-hence Ducky.

I sat down next to Roy, and for a while just made idle chatter as I watched him work. It was getting dusky out and the light was too poor for him to start a new carving so after he finished he started to clean the few tools he had out. He was living in the park as well, and I thought it funny that everyone I had met so far was homeless. I remembered what I had been told before about the price of rent, and figured that during these months that’s about all I would meet, especially if I stayed in the park as much as I had been.

When Roy was done he asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee. We walked back out of the park and onto Haight. There was a coffee house called Café Cole, inside was appropriately funky, and an open mike night was going on. I was all set to order my standard cup of black, but Roy persuaded me to try something called Chai Tea. I was immediately in love with this drink. We sat for a while and I started grilling him about life around here. So far he seemed to be the only one not on any drugs, so I figured I might actually get a bit of a feel for the place. He started telling me about different things that went on in the park, like the concerts and about the carousel, the Polo Grounds and down at the other end of the park was the beach. As he was talking, open mike night started. It was a mix of spoken word, A Capella and unplugged instruments. Some was really beautiful and very well done, but like all there was a lot of God awful as well.

It was full dark outside by now, so we went and sat on a stone wall at the side of a path leading into the park. It had been a pretty good evening by any standards, but I had to ask a few questions that I wasn’t sure how to bring up. Finally I blurted out
“Do you do drugs” I felt like the four words plopped out and landed with a thud on the sidewalk.
Roy laughed and said he does drink a lot, but that was about it. I looked sharply at him just to see if that was the truth. He looked back at me, with the light from the streetlamps highlighting his olive complexion. I couldn’t see his eyes, but it was just enough light to see a sardonic grin on his face. I decided to let it go and believe him for now, but I was starting to be a bit more wary. The strange thing was, that I was mildly disappointed. I had already begun liking the speed and the effects it had on me. The next question was did he know how I could make money. I internally winced as I waited for the answer. There was one thing I figured he would suggest, something I would never do. Amazingly enough he did not suggest anything to do with prostitution. What he did suggest doing the day labor thing. Unfortunately I had no ID. The next suggestion was that I do like the rest of the kids when they first get there and beg. I thought about it for a while, and it really seemed to be the lesser of two evils, at least until I could find some under the table work. We parted ways a bit after that, and I said I would meet him back on hippie hill tomorrow. I strolled back to Babs’ camp looking at all the people settling in for the night, and figured I would try my hand at it tomorrow.

The next day came fast, even though I didn’t get much sleep. I had another interesting night with babs, basically drugs and sex, but the time did fly. I ran into Roy on the hill again, and he kinda walked me through the finer points of spanging, which seemed to be the slang there for begging for spare change. He walked me up to the height again, and I found a spot that was well away from the others doing the same thing. I didn’t know if they would be territorial or not, and wasn’t up to finding out.
I started out asking simply “Spare change for some food?”
I was slightly successful, and after an hour I saw that I had about 5 dollars worth of quarters, nickels and dimes. I decided to stop for a time and actually get something to eat. As I passed the others I saw that they were making quite a bit more than I was. There seemed to be two tactics, either being gruff and kind of nasty in appearance, or sitting in a group of younger kids and looking pathetic like street urchins. I knew I could do something different.

I thought about it for the entire time I was eating lunch and over hearing a few pot heads that were next to me munching fries it came to me.
“Spare change for my pot habit” I called sitting on the side of the street. I only asked the yippies walking around. You know, the ones that dress raggedy, but you can see from their shoes and the pants they wear that they live around there or they’re tourists. The ones that buy their pants with the holes in them, and the faded spots. Easy marks they all are. Damn near everyone loved the line, and not only did I have about forty dollars, but had managed to get stoned three different times.

As I walked back to Babs again I figured today I would treat, and so I went in search of Jack, knowing that he could find a bag for me.
Weeks went by and my days seemed to form a pattern. Get up, go to the local Food not Bombs
place for Odwalla carrot juice and a bagel, dick around until about eleven when the tourists started to straggle out from their hotels. Then of course out to separate the masses from their cash. I had been doing pretty well on this end, but every night I would either hang out with Babs, Jack, or Roy. Depending who I was with I would either spend my money on a few 40’s of Olympia, or to get high in some fashion or another. June was approaching and I realized that I had stopped my adventure, and just become another park dweller, but by that point I was so deep into it I didn’t know where else to go. By then I was using a needle regularly and not only that, but was able to hit myself with ease. Now this is not a bragging point, but at the time, at least in my little circle, it was a rarity.

Still I was not accepted by a lot of the people that lived out there. There was a group of women, girls really that ran around together. I would call them a gang if there was any point to their actions or definable territory that they defended, but really they just kinda stuck together. Their leader of sorts was an older woman everyone called Mama Cat. She more than likely was no more than 40, but years of living outside gave her a look of someone almost ageless. Leathery skin and so may wrinkles you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Babs and Laura were some of the girls that ran around with the group and there were about 5 more. I never really knew how it worked, whether they pooled money or if the girls earned it and gave it to Mama, but they were the best connection for drugs in the park. Mama formed an immediate dislike for me. More than likely it was because I wouldn’t join her little clique, but mainly I thought it was because I didn’t need to. These girls had been living on their own out there for as long, or much longer than I did, and all of them seemed to need someone to take care of them. Right down to helping them shoot their own drugs. The more I watched this, the more I knew I needed to stay away from that kind of dependency.

That evening I went back to Babs’ camp to grab my things. I was going to find my own spot, and hope that it was hidden enough to keep the park police from finding it. There was a big issue with the homeless in the park at that time being as it was an election year. The stance of the mayor that wanted to be elected, Willie Brown, was to rid the park of all the homeless in it. To do this there would be teams of police on horseback going into the park at dawn and if they found anyone sleeping in the park that couldn’t show valid id, and proof of residence,(or at least a hotel receipt/key) arrest them.

I searched for a while that evening and soon found a place around the back of a hill. There was a small walking ledge that led onto a wider area, big enough for a bed roll and the few things I had acquired. The best part of it was that at the edge of the spot there was a decent drop off covered in heavy brush so I could hide my things in there during the day and it would look like there was no one there. I made camp there for the night and after I was ready proceeded to get out my bag and point. I had become an old pro at this, so in a matter of minutes I was high as a kite, and ready to do my nightly ramble.

I ended up back on the height like normal. It was rare that I went to many places at night far from the park, but I felt like doing something different that night. I hopped onto the MUNI and went to the Bart Station. I didn’t know where I wanted to go, so I just picked a location. I chose Berkley and away I went.

I found a seat quickly on BART in a virtually empty train car. There was an older woman snoozing, and other than that I was alone. I waited for it to pull out and in the meantime pulled out a copy of the SF Gate I had found to pass the time. Just as the doors were closing a group of people came in to sit down. Oddly enough I had seen a few of them around, and so I greeted them briefly and went back to my paper. One of the guys in the group really stood out among the rest. Dressed in almost motley he wore a jester’s hat with wing nuts tied to the ends, a tight black shirt, loud striped pants, and a Guatemalan Jacket. He was tall, with long black hair and very thin. The rest were the normal hippies and locals, not one of them I can still remember. After a while the guy in the hat came over and asked if I wanted to join them. When I shrugged indifferently he mentioned that they were going to get some microdot in Berkley. Since that was where I was headed anyway I said sure, and figured maybe I could trip around for a while.
He introduced himself as Jester, which was no surprise, and I grabbed my things and followed him over to where they were all sitting. The time went rather quickly although it was a forty five minute ride, and when we got there they found their connection rather quickly. After that was said and done we all took a couple tabs and pitched in to get a room for the night.

It was crazy, after settling in my trip began in earnest. Nothing very heavy visually, but my senses seemed so increased that everything was incredible. The bathroom in the motel had black and white checkerboard tile in the shower so I decided to go play in there for a while. I stayed in the shower for, well really I have no idea how long, but it seemed like all night. I spent most of the time turning the water from as hot as I could stand it to as cold as it would go. Enjoying the extreme sensations on my skin. When I finally stumbled out they were scattered all over the floor and the beds smoking out, so of course I joined in. Jester and I started joking back and forth for a while, and I realized that he was a lot smarter then the rest of them. Hell more than most of the people I had met in the last few months. We started referencing books, and plays and whatnot that we had seen, and soon the rest of the room was lost. Their discussion moved to banal things and we decided to go outside and continue our talk.

After we moved outside I breathed deep of the night air and leaned back against the low wall that was outside of the room. Jester asked me if I wanted to see a little trick he could do. I said sure, and waited for a bit while he readied himself. He pulled these two long sticks out with some kind of fabric wrapped around the tips, and dipped them into a little jar. I could smell the alcohol from where I was sitting, strong and pungent. He lit them with a lighter and flame flew up in a blue burst. He waited a moment for it to die down a bit and proceeded to place the burning wand into his mouth and extinguish it. As he pulled it out, he touched it to the lit one and it reignited. Over and over he ate flame, using the other to set it a fire.
It was mesmerizing. After a while of that he poured a little of the liquor on the ground and lit it with a torch. He began to run his fingers, then his feet through the flames. They wound around his legs like a cat.

After he was dome with the fire, and all of his things put away we sat back down. Our talk resumed, and we spent most of the night with just each other and the moon for company. Finally we were so tired that we went in and I fell asleep the moment I lay down. Our check out the next morning was uneventful, and after a quick breakfast I noticed that there was some kind of festival going on further down the street.

Of course being Berkley, it was a cannabis festival, and figuring I had enough dot to make another day in Berkley interesting I decided to go. I wound around the booths most of the day and quickly got separated form the rest of the group. It didn’t matter much because I was too busy looking at everything. There was clothing made from Hemp, cannabutter cookies, music playing, crafts, and lots and lots of stoners. It was great! By the afternoon, I was so high I could barely think straight, and more than a little horny. I saw Jester over in a crowd of people and remembering a part of our conversation last night I went over towards him. We had been talking about best pickup lines last night and I figured he’d be amused if nothing else if I said one to him. As I got closer I noticed he was barefoot, and knew then which one to use. I crept up behind him, not a hard feat in the crowd, and whispered in his ear.
“Nice shoes, wanna fuck?”
He whipped around and saw me. As his eyes widened I dropped a wink and disappeared into the midst of a group of people. I saw him look around and start to go into the direction I left in. I let him catch another glimpse and off I went. I knew then I would chase him until he caught me.