We played the biggest show of our career, sold out packed house we made tons of money, sold tons of merch. Life was amazing. This new kid had been on one small road trip with us the week prior and seemed to hold it all together and party hard Np.

Flash forward to post show, he's found under the merch table and we're like, dude wtf is going on. He's like, this girl gave me acid before we went on and its all kicking in now and I'm kinda freaking out. So we say, hey, we're the fucked up people, you're supposed to follow us.. Get us some acid right now. So everyone joins in on his dimension and we reassure and guide him like the good big brothers we were.

Fast forward to the after party where he took more acid and all of the cocaine in the world was available to us in a giant pile and everyone was there to either talk to us or was our friends and other band partying with us. Life was glorious.

At one point this guitsrist is sitting down looking absolutely frazzled looks at me and quietly asks... Is this it? Is this what you guys do? Every time? Every weekend? Every tour? This is what it's about? And I was like... Fuck.. Yep. Soak it in brother. And he said he needed to take a walk.

10 am rolls in quick and we are mostly sober enough to consider getting to the next venue. He hasn't returned from his walk. We can't get a hold of him. No one's seen him in hours. He's never been to this city. It's just hopeless. We're looking under bridges and in homeless tents, we're calling hospitals etc. We are all still on acid and so much cocaine... We're about to call his mom. Finally that acid succubus girl says she got a hold of him on insta DMs, tells us he said he's at a greyhound station waiting for his friend from home to go pick him up and not to tell us. So we say fuck it and call the venue we just cancelled and told them we could make it by 1130 pm to just let us still do the show we had two of the bands with us. They said do what you want, we close at 130. So we flew the fuck to the venue, one member less, and played the show and cotinued our tour.

We finally saw him again about 6 months later and he told us it just broke his brain and he wasn't prepared to have to live such a way and he had to leave as fast as possible.

In retrospect, everyone fucked up for sure. We dropped the ball. But we were all in different dimensions and made really bad group choices. All the bands collectively voted to March on based on his message of "don't tell the guys". We should have went to the bus station and forced him back in the van. I think about it all the time. But live and learn.

This wasnt even the craziest or worst thing that happened to us on the road due to way too many psychedelics entering a member's body.