I've been to a lot of parties in a lot of places all over the world. In fact, from 1968 to 1983 my life was with only a few interruptions, just about one continues party. And ever since then, even though I've gotten old and kicked back, I still try to give life hell every chance that I can. But the drinkingest, dopingest, fuckingest party that I've ever been to was the one that Joanne gave herself for her 30th birthday. It started out like any other San Francisco hippie early 70's party but before it was over it involved well over a hundred people, including most of the neighbors and lasted a non-stop 24 hours a day for an amazing 17 crazy intense funfilled day and nights. That's two weeks and three weekends before it got just too weird and the plug got pulled.
Joanne and Kerry shared a two bedroom flat on Mirapose St. on Potrerro Hill just down the block from the infamous doper bar The Garden of Earthy Delights which they frequented when either bored or in search of the virile straight young male, and where they were well known. The Garden served beer and wine. Also, it had very loud very live garage bands on the ground floor. On the second floor they rented out rooms where one could purchase any amount of any kind of illegal substances, it was a sort of hippie Quickie Mart.
Joanne and Kerry were party-hardy girls who were always up for anything. One of their favorite sports was to pick up a young good looking gay guy and try to get him to fuck them. They told me that as long as the room was dark and they did it doggy style, it usually worked, but if the gay guy got a glimpse of tits and no cock in the crotch then it was all over but the crying. Joanne and Kerry worked when they had too so they had quite a few straight friends too. They would have sex with about any male that could get it up so they had lots of male friends. They took lots of drugs and had a party at their flat almost every weekend so they knew lots of freek friends both straight and gay. When they could, they'd quit their jobs and go on unemployment and food stamps. When the unemployment ran out they'd just get another job. Usually it was six months on and six months off. The six months on they dressed like regular straight chicks during the week and confined their partying to Friday and Saturday nights but for the six months off they were real hell on wheels.
Joanne even kept a diary of all the guys that she screwed with comments and stars, one to five by their names, if she knew it, or just a description of the guy if she didn't. She told me that if she ever felt down all she had to do was page through her diary and pretty soon she would be feeling good again remembering all that wonderful delicious sex. Sometimes when she was really high and the party was getting too slow for her liking she would break out the diary and pass it around and let everyone get a laugh especially since almost all of us guys were in it. Of course, there would always be some dude complaining that he deserved more stars and would ask for another chance to prove it. Joanne usually gave them the chance but almost never changed their stars.
You wouldn't have thought that they would have made good roommates either, although they were both into fucking. Mainly because Joanne loved pot, acid and speed with the occasional skin pop of smack, while Kerry was into grass and downers. However, they got along really well for all the years they lived together until Joanne's 30th birthday party that is.
Since Joanne was now going to be officially old and therefore would never ever have fun again for as long as she lived, she decided to have a big weekend party, not an uncommon occurrence in those days. It would start around 10 p.m. on Friday night and run until anywhere to between sunrise and noon on Sunday. It would feature all the most popular drugs of the day plus beer and wine with plenty of munchies. She had Pie Makin’ Marie and me, Bread Makin’ Tai, plus anyone else who could cook working overtime. She invited over 60 people both straight and gay, straight and hip which meant that since almost everyone would bring or tell their friends that there would be a real housefull by Saturday night. She also invited the neighbors from both up and downstairs and next door. A good move since if they were partying with us they would be less likely to complain about the noise or worse, call the cops. Although the cops in the City were pretty cool. They'd knock on the door, take a look at the debauchery going on inside, say that they received a complaint and to keep it down. They never got mad or arrested anybody until the second or even third time they were called, then they'd be pissed and close you down.
By Friday evening all was ready. All we lacked were the guest. Those of us who had worked preparing for the party had started getting high in the afternoon and were in fine shape by the time that the first guests arrived. As usual, around 9 p.m. the straight working folks started coming by, they'd stay until midnight or maybe 1 a.m. By then the freeks who loved grass and acid, and the gays who love grass and poppers, would be there in numbers and the partying-hardy would begin in earnest with lots of drugs being ingested. Plus, hot sex would be happening in the back bedroom so the straights, who only used grass, beer and wine and never had communal sex would kind of disappear. Usually around 3 or 4 a.m. the gays would have had enough because by then the acid and speed that the freeks had taken would have kicked in real good and things would start to get extremely weird. The freeks would then crash between dawn and noon, sleep until sundown then the whole thing would start over again for one more night. On Sunday the freeks would usually go home, but this party was not going to be the usual and that was apparent form the get go.
With these longer parties people would usually pace themselves, starting slow and friendly on Friday night using the light weight drugs then go flat out insane on Saturday night until no one was left standing. Although no one wanted to be the first to pass out because there was always a special surprise waiting for them. Our favorite trick was: If it was a guy, one of the girls or gay guys would take down the dude’s pants. They would paint his cock and balls with a nice bright red, orange, green or whatever day-glo paint.. We’d wait for it to dry while we all stood around and watched then someone would pull his pants back up. We always had lots of day-glo paint around just for fun. (One time I painted myself bright red from head to toe, put on a gold lamae G-string and went to the Garden where they promptly put me up on stage while the band played "Sympathy For The Devil" and everyone bought me drinks and pinched my ass.)
Anyway, when the guy woke up to take a piss he'd freak right out and we'd hear a yell from the bathroom, "Goddamn! My pricks turned red!" and we would all laugh like hell. If it was a girl who passed out first, we'd get out the whipped cream can, take her pants or panties down if she was wearing any, place the nozzle up into her pussy and press. When she woke up, she'd feel herself and say, "I don't know who I fucked, but he must have cum a gallon." or something to that effect.
We always had whipped cream around because it was a high that you could buy with food stamps. Don't shake the can, keep it upright, press and suck down the nitrous, ahhh. A pleasant little buzz, plus you could open the bottom of the can with a can opener and use the cream to sweeten your coffee. This was just harmless fun that everyone could enjoy.
The one that scared the lightweights was, if they passed out and someone dosed them. There's nothing quite like waking up with two or three hundred mike’s of acid running through your brain. I myself like it and sometimes would wake up early in the morning, take a piss, drop some acid then go back to sleep for another hour or two. What a way to start the day! But this party did not start slow and easy.
By midnight Friday it was going gangbusters with around a 50 or 60 people partying their asses off. The stereo was turned all the way up and there was dancing in the living room, doping in the kitchen and on the back porch, and fucking in the back bedroom. The front bedroom was kind of a safe area that the straighter saner folks had taken over to chat in but even they weren't leaving yet. Since I prided myself on being able to party with anyone, I was in the front bedroom talking to a doctor and his chemist Japanese wife who made the cleanest clearest LSD that I've ever had in my entire life. You could easily take two or three hits and feel nothing but high, though I never saw either of them take any but they did like to pass it out, and we loved to take it.
While I standing there chatting with these two, Pie Makin’ Marie who is really stoned, walks up to us, says "Hi" then, "Excuse me."
She drops onto her knees, unbotttons my Levi’s, takes my tool out of my pants, pops it into her mouth and starts sucking. At first we all try to ignore her and keep on with the conversation.
But pretty soon I just can't take it anymore and say to the Doc and his wife, "Excuse me, but I'm going to have to take Marie into the bedroom and fuck the living hell out of her."
They say that hey understand.
So I say "Come on Marie, let's go."
We retire to the back bedroom which is already full of naked sweaty writhing moaning bodies, and I'm thinking that it's only Friday night and shit like this is already happening. Man, this is going to be some party. And it was.
Saturday came and went with no let up. The same for Sunday. People just kept coming bringing a fresh supply of bodies, booze and dope. Those who couldn't take anymore left, only to show up later ready to party some more. By Monday morning there were only about 30 hard core freeks left and we all thought, well that's about it but no, they stayed partying all day. And Monday night another 20 showed up all rested and ready to go with more of everything. At this point I couldn't take it anymore and had to retreat and regroup so I went over to a friend’s house to crash for a few days.
On Thursday I went back to Joanne and Kerry's thinking that I’d be seeing the aftermath of one hell of a party but I was dead wrong. It was still going on and there were some freeks there that had never left. They had just crashed on the floor and let the party go on around them. They said that the word was out and that this coming weekend would be even wilder and crazier than the last, and they were right
By Friday night there was a whole new crop of hard core partyers mixed in with the old ones. A lot of them I had never seen before and never would again. Of course, all the straights and most of the gays were not in attendance, and if they came by to check out the action they didn't stay long. It was just too weird, because the freeks were get getting that real frazzled look especially the ones who had been on the spree most of the week. Joanne had partied the whole time and was loving it. Kerry had, like me, gone to some friend’s house to crash and when she returned on Saturday she just shook her in disbelief and joined in. She was hoping that this weekend would be the end of it but it wasn't. It went on for another week with anywhere from 20 to 50 bodies always in attendance. I came and partied as hardy as I could then I’d leave, crash, and then come back for more.
By the end of the second week even I will admit that things were getting out of hand. Everything that could get broken in the flat, was, or it was simply missing. The place was starting to fill with trash. There were freeks awake, asleep and zombied out all over the place. The neighbors were complaining that even though they liked to party as much as the next guy, that enough was enough. Kerry had had enough and told Joanne to get rid of these people or she was moving out and never coming back. Even Joanne thought it was time to shut it down but didn't know how, there were just too many people and they just kept coming and going.
On Friday night a freek passed out in the bathtub with the water running while locked in the bathroom. It flooded out the entire back half of the building and we had to break down the down to turn off the water, plus someone had thrown something down the toilet and it was plugged up. One of the neighbors called the landlord who on Saturday sent the plumber to fix the problem. The plumber fixed the toilet then he reported back to the landlord. The landlord showed up on Sunday morning to take a look for himself. One look was all it took. He said that if everyone but Joanne didn't leave immediately then he was calling the police and would sign a complaint, then he gave Joanne a 30-day eviction notice. The party was over. Joanne and Kerry moved out and got separate apartment but remain friends to this day, and we still all fondly remember Joanne's 30th birthday.