It was the 4th of July a few years back. I was in Santa Barbara with my then gf for her dad’s retirement party. A friend of his was letting us stay in her house during the week.
I’d only been to Santa Barbara one other time, and only for a few hours, spending a whole week there in this gorgeous house overlooking the ocean was like a dream come true.
If you’ve never been you really should, it’s such a lovely city. I expected some of the oppressive nature of L.A. but there is none of that there. It’s almost seem like a small town in the way people acted and even how the city looks from the outside. I’m from the Midwest, so maybe I’m just better suited to cities without towering skyscrapers, I don’t know. Somebody told me, “the sun is nearer, here”, and I thought that was silly, but it really does feel that way.
In any case, my gf and I had planned out the entire trip. We were, of course, expected to be at and help set up/tear down the retirement party when that happened, but other than that, we were free to do as we pleased. So we spent each day doing different things. We went to the zoo, we went to Knott’s Berry Farm (not in Santa Barbara, I know) and every day we woke up in a gorgeous house, had one of the very best breakfast burritos I’ve ever had, and overlooked the ocean from the home owner’s spacious back patio.
We had a plan for the 4th. We were gonna drop some acid and spend the entire day on the beach, then watch the fireworks from the water when it got dark.
We packed for two meals (lunch and dinner), lots and lots of sunblock lotion, a couple of chairs, some green and a chillum we’d been loaned by my gf’s sister, an umbrella, and what turned out to be not enough water.
I mentioned the water on the way there, but it was too late to turn back by the time I saw there was possibly not enough. We weren’t going to die of thirst or anything but, and this is a good lesson to follow, the key to a good trip on any sort of hallucinogenic is hydration. It’s really as simple as that, your brain is running a marathon so you gotta drink and keep on drinking water, staying away from alcohol unless you want the mother of all hangovers.
So we stopped at a Walgreens and picked up a few more bottles to be on the safe side. We took the LSD just as we were pulling into the beach, giving us a good window to get in and get set up before it kicked in.
It was a perfect day. Warm, but not hot, even the ocean was warm and so clear you could see the bottom everywhere you went. We’d swim for a bit, then go and get in some shade and smoke.
After a while the acid kicked in, and everything was heightened. Colors brighter, sensations more vivid. I buried my feet in the sand, loving the feel of it’s soothing heat against my damp skin and looked out onto what was to become a core memory; Shimmering blue waters, stretching out forever, laughter bubbling through the air from the other beach goers, a dog or two joyfully bounding by, and the woman I loved sitting in the shade next to me, laughing at me, while I played in the sand like a child, and sharing this moment with me.
We had lunch and dosed again, keeping the trip rolling as we had every intention on being in that heightened state when the fireworks went off.
It was a perfect day, so beautiful and clear. The beach wasn’t crowed, oh there were lots of people there, but well spaced out and we’d walked quite a ways down it to find a nice secluded spot.
If we’d been closer to the stairs, leading up and off the beach, maybe it would have remained the perfect day.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, we decided to go out for one last swim before putting on clothes. As hot as Santa Barbara can get, during the day, it can get downright chilly once the “nearer sun” sets.
We swam out as the waters grew darker, the sun leaving it, the ocean cooling. Shapes would occasionally pop out to peer at us. Seals, from down the coastline. Friendly and curious, but still a little unnerving when a human-sized non-human just pops right up out of darkened waters. I’ve always had a fear of big ocean creatures. So I decided it was time to get out.
I noticed, as we got out, people leaving in droves. Not too unusual, as the day was nearly done, but I thought there would be more who would stay, for the fireworks. Well, that only meant more space, for us, so I was ultimately glad of it.
We set up for the show, drying off and getting dressed more warmly. We weren’t alone, there were still small groups of people, here and there, presumably doing the same thing we were doing. There were also people there, alone; dedicated surfers, beach-walkers and the like.
Looking down the beach, I noticed one figure in particular. He was too far away to make out anything about his appearance but his behavior seemed odd, to me. He didn’t seem to be a part of any of these groups, but he was going to each and every one of them and staying for a while, before moving on to the next group, making his way down, to us.
His movement too, I found unusual. He almost staggered, but not drunkenly. He was sure-footed, in the loose sand ,but he moved like these were a new pair of legs, and he was still breaking them in.
Eventually he came close enough for me to see it was a man in dirty cargo shorts, a pair of flip flops and nothing else. He seemed to be in his early to mid 20s, with what could almost be called a beard. It was patchy and not really growing in well, but black.
In one of the larger pockets of his cargo shorts was a large iPad, almost too large for the pants, poking 3/4ths out, but he never touched it. He just kept coming up and, I supposed, socializing or maybe begging, with each new group.
I braced myself for the encounter. Encountering any new person while actively tripping is never something I’ve enjoyed, but I knew it was inevitable as he was certain to come up to us as he made his way down.
Eventually he did, making his way over to our spot. My gf gave me a look that said, “please handle this” and went back to looking out over the ocean, doing her best to ignore him. I didn’t blame her, I would’ve done the same, if that were an option.
I sighed and then waved in friendly manner as he got close.
“Hello!” I said in my best customer service voice, expecting a reply and perhaps a reason for this visit.
I got neither as the man walked right up to the towel we had laid down and went to sit, less than a foot away from us.
“Woah!” I said, standing up and stopping him, “can we help you?”
His eyes were glassy and bugged out of his head, unnaturally so, pupils fully dilated. He reeked of B.O. and something else utter vile that I couldn’t identify, at first. He was clearly even more fucked up than we were, and on something not quite so harmless and fun as LSD.
His eyes darted around, to me, my gf, the beach, the sky. He was muttering to himself. I thought I heard some Spanish, but mostly it was just gibberish.
He walked, again, right up to my gf, invading her space and she shouted at him to fuck off, which he did not do, right away. I again came up to him and dropped all pretense of courtesy.
“Get the fuck out of here.” I did not shout at first, but I was no longer using my sales voice and he must’ve heard something in it, because he turned to me, smiling.
His teeth were all fucked up. I just caught a brief glimpse as he smiled at me, but they were all wrong.
However, he didn’t budge, just stood there inches away from us, smiling at me.
I’m not a violent guy, nor am I hateful. I think violence should always be the absolute last resort and I have only one time in my lifetime felt true rage, years ago when I was mugged at gunpoint and cracked in the face with butt of the gun.
In those seconds after I was hit, I knew which side of fight or flight I fell on when I felt a murderous boiling hatred fill me to the absolute brim. If I had caught those guys, I know I would’ve ripped their throats out, with my teeth, or at least tried to before they shot me dead. The feeling made me sick, after the adrenaline had gone out of me. I never imagined I could be so possesed by rage, by survival instinct, to just completely lose myself to it.
I felt a stirring of that, just a stirring mind you, but my body was reacting to this guy in a way it had only once before.
I got in his face, and this time I was shouting, “Back the fuck up, now!”
His reaction was.. unusual.
He did back up, which was a great relief, but then he started speaking to me.
Not in English or Spanish, but in that same gibberish he had been muttering to himself. Like a parrot or a monkey, or maybe a very large insect.
He gestured to us, pointing and flapping his arms, speaking faster and louder, then he made a stabbing gesture and licked his lips, looking more pointedly at my gf, still in her bikini top.
I kicked sand at him. I did not want to put my hands on him, he looked oily.. almost slimy with grime.
I thought he might come at us, then, and already I was gearing up for something, but he continued his odd behavior.
He bowed to me, lowering his head and eyes, lowering his voice once more. He got into a sort of supplication pose, on all fours. It was primal, weirdly submissive and then, he walked away. Onto the next group.
We were shaken, to say the least and I immediately considered leaving. However, the guy was heading in the direction of the stairs, the only way out of the deep rut of the beach for a while. If we wanted to leave, we would have to go by him, again.
So we stayed and carefully watched him as he continued to go group to group. It was obvious, now that we were closer to see the interaction, it was all pretty similar, leaving most groups scared and hurrying to their cars.
One group of two, a man and woman with their dog came to sit next to us at one point. Their eyes were also on the man, but they briefly looked our way and I saw in their eyes the unspoken truth.
“Safety in numbers”
We didn’t say a word to each other, there was no need. We just sat and watched the man gibbering and moving in his stilted way to everyone left on the beach.
I was glad to have another group of sane people close, but I was more glad of the presence of the dog. It was a big dog too, all white. He looked very friendly and panted softly, not a care in the world, just happy to have a beach day with his owners.
They eventually left, looking at us with terrified eyes which I’m sure we mirrored, before flicking hurriedly back to the gibbering man in cargo shorts, making sure of his location.
Their departure left me feeling vulnerable and I prayed for another friendly dog to come along. I’d more than happily give up my uneaten dinner for the presence of such a reassuring animal.
We watched in silence the man’s journey. I didn’t even think of calling the cops, what would I say? A man got close to us and said some nonsense, looked at my girlfriend, before bowing to me and scuttling away?
He had nearly rounded the bend, out of sight when, to my abject horror, he turned around and started heading our way, again.
There were much fewer people on the beach now, it was nearly empty and sun was almost set.
He was headed to us, I could see that clearly, even with a football field’s worth of distance between us.
not just because we were one of the few people left, but, I think, by looking at him, interacting with him, I had invited further interaction.
This time, I did not wait for him to come close. Though my heart was pounding with raw anxiety, I stepped towards him as he approached.
His eyes were locked on me, but slid, lasciviously over to my gf as he slyly smiled again.
“Nope,” I said to him, shaking my head in an exaggerated fashion, and pointed down the beach and away. “Go.”
He did not, muttering furiously under his breath, and went to step around me and get to my gf.
I stepped in front of him and reiterated, “get out of here!” But he did not, he was no longer looking at me.
He was staring at my gf, drooling. Mouth fully open and actually drooling. It was then I saw his teeth more clearly. They were not fucked up, they were filed.
All of his teeth were filed to points.
Now, I know some of you may be thinking, “you were tripping, it was just a hallucination.” But I’ve been doing psychedelics, recreationally, for a long time. I know the difference between reality and distortion and this creepy motherfucker had fangs.
He moved suddenly, trying to dart around me and shove me to the side to access my gf, who was bolted to her beach chair in shock and horror.
I pushed him then, hard. He fell back onto his ass. Instead of getting up or looking up at me, his eyes flicked around the beach. I realized he was checking how many people were left.
His eyes found a lone man, walking down the beach, coming our way, walking with a walking stick along the ocean and headed down the long stretch to our right, away from the stairs.
There were no others.
The shark-toothed man looked up at me, briefly, considering. Then he got on all fours and started away, crawling like an animal for a bit before straightening out and walking on two feet to the walking man, who was just now passing by us, and away.
The fanged man spared us one glance back, before attaching himself onto the lone walker, immediately getting into his gibberish with the man, who looked startled as he realized he was no longer alone, but continued walking down the beach and away from us.
My hands were sticky, and I realized with disgust that in that brief moment I touched him, his grime had gotten on me. I recognized the smell, then, as I wiped my hands on the sand and a towel.
The man stank of shit and piss and death, with a slight undertone of chemicals and febreeze.
He stank like a hospice.
I waited until they were a good distance away before I said to my gf, “we need to get the fuck outta here, now.”
This seemed to break her out of the trance of terror she had been in and she turned said, “what?” having heard my voice but not the words.
I was already packing up our stuff. “As quickly as possible” I said to her, and she got up suddenly, getting the idea and packing up hurriedly, as well.
“As quickly as possible,” I said again, saying them more to my own hands and feet, then to her.
Once we had all our stuff, we started towards the stairs. I looked back once, making sure the shark-toothed man was still more interested in the walker, than us. Then began to quickly walk away.
You never want to run, from a predator, they tend to see it as an invitation to chase.
We walked in silence, holding each other up, along with the coolers and chairs. We were panting, more in terror than exertion as we walked. I stumbled a few times, on the loose sand, but I did not look back. I got up and started again towards the stairs, as quickly as possible.
We climbed the stairs all the way, up and out of the beach and I looked back, now just moments away from the parking lot and having put the stairs between ourselves and him.
It was nearly full dark, and as the last rays of sunlight faded away, I saw them, all the way down the beach now.
He had not come back for us, but had stayed with his new companion all the way. They were close I could see, even from far away, uncomfortable close and the walking man had his head down as he walked, as if trying to wish the fanged man away with every ounce of his will, praying to anyone listening to make this stop, to make him go away.
They were alone now, as the darkness swallowed my sight of them. Just the two of them on an empty beach, walking into the blooming night.