…@ midnite there were no crowds, no security, no fences nor in fact neither many people - so basically Myron Fishman, Gay Meyers & me and Linda Horner had the place to ourselves.
Alone together in Athens on The Acropolis was almost more romantic than this romantic could bear. I was light years away from my nativity in Vermont and way over my head in history, and waaaay in love with my child-bride Sweetheart - plus, get this, Myron and Gay had just returned in their Morgan from Istanbul and had a chunk of hashish roughly the size of Mom’s apple pie; smuggling then was about as surreptitious as an open-air bazaar ergo relatively safe in these pre-Billy Hayes days on days in a daze, so not only are we alone and in love in Greece in the sunrise of our youth but we are about to get stoned for the first time in our lives, well me and Linda anyway, all very subterranean and hip…we bite off a couple chunks and start the smoking bowl around while Socrates, Plato & Alexander the Great observed from the marbled shadows of The Parthenon’s Corinthian columns…
Life has never been the same since that night, a night I can even date: August the 19th, 1965…for 42 years I’ve been a doper, good thing it’s not habit-forming because I’d be hooked if it was.
Like smoke, Myron, Gay & Linda disappeared.
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