The Great Brownie Caper
I always had a thing for brownies. Maybe because my mother was not a baker, I used to love going to birthday and school parties as a kid because it was the only opportunity to have homemade brownies, you know the kind that was crusty on the outside and gooey on the inside.
This love of brownies continued into young adulthood, but my love of brownies almost killed me or so it seemed at the time. It was back in the 1970’s and some friends and I had tickets to see Electric Light Orchestra, also known as ELO, perform at Madison Square Garden. That afternoon, the four of us got the brilliant idea to make brownies with one special added ingredient, an ounce of marijuana. As that wonderful aroma wafted from the oven, we waited at the kitchen table in rapt anticipation.
After coming out of the oven we figured four people, four quarters, so we cut the brownies in four equal squares and wolfed them down. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? At first, nothing seemed to happen, and we thought someone sold us an ounce of oregano or a ‘bad stash.’ But slowly a ¼ of an ounce of marijuana took effect. The laughing and silly behavior slowly gave way to paranoia and quiet, but there was no turning back as it was time to take the wheel among the forgiving and benevolent New Jersey drivers and drive the Route 3 gauntlet into NYC.
I had the unfortunate task of driving and somewhere on Route 3, the brownies swung into full effect. For those who have never driven into New York City at rush hour, it can be a daunting task under the best of circumstances. As we waited in bumper-to-bumper traffic slowly making our way into the Lincoln Tunnel, my digested brownie was now freely flowing through my nervous system. I no longer had feelings in my legs, which can be a problem driving in stop-and-go traffic.
Somehow, miraculously, I made it through the tunnel and parked in Port Authority. By the time we arrived at our seats, sheer terror had taken over Until that day, I had heard about people having ‘episodes’ or ‘losing it’ after ingesting too many drugs. But I always attributed this to things like LSD, Mescaline, and other more harder drugs. But pot? Well, we are all sitting there trying to hold it together, exchanging glances at each other and wondering if what is happening to me is happening to the rest of the brownie crew. For those unaware or too young, ELO was a hard rock group that maximized all the technology of its day. Wikipedia describes their music as a ‘fusion of pop, classical arrangements and futuristic iconography.’ So, we just assumed the opening act would be another similar act. Out walks on stage a guy dressed like a country singer with an electric guitar and a barstool. His name was Stephen Hillage. As we later learned but had no idea at the time, Hillage’s music was best described as working in ‘experimental domains’ and on that night, he was at his most experimental. The sounds emitted from his guitar could not have been more incongruent to what we were watching than if Tiny Tim had walked out on stage. All four of us had the exact same thought…………………” Is it him or is it the brownies?”
At that point we retreated to the men’s room and tried to weather the storm. If anybody for a second thinks you cannot lose your mind due to a single drug episode, I can tell you that is very possible. We discussed whether we should go to the nearest emergency room but decided on returning to our seats. It is not clear how long we stayed in our seats, but at this point, we were all-in full-scale panic mode. We eventually decided that the best course of action was to walk back to the Port of Authority and drive home. I will never know how I drove the four of us home and not kill us or someone else, but I got us home safely. It took three full days till I stopped having periodic episodes of panic and abject fear, but we all survived and none of us went to that place where there was no returning.
We all survived the brownie trip from hell, and I swore off homemade brownies forever but my love for this delicacy remained. One day coming driving home from college, I dropped by Duncan Doughnuts and ordered a large coffee and a brownie. Driving with a gooey icing filled brownie in my hand, it was a disaster as icing was on the steering wheel, the console and all over me. So, I did the logical thing and threw the brownie out the window. As quick as you can say brownie flashback, there were red and blue lights flashing behind me to pull over. “What did you throw out of your car son?” “Um, a brownie officer.” The officer gives me a……………. are you kidding look and says, “really what did you throw out of your car?” At this point and in a time when you could freely raise both hands at an officer of the law, I showed him my hands, slathered in chocolate icing. The officer looks at my hands, looks at me, looks at my hands and just bursts out laughing. “Well, this is a new one on me he said, walking away laughing.
Years later, I was living in Montclair and late one night had an urge for a cup of coffee and just could not resist another brownie. I used to like to drive around Upper Montclair and look at the houses and as I was returning to my apartment in what was decidedly not Upper Montclair, I had finished my coffee and by now was a pro at eating brownies while driving a car. I deposited the brownie wrapper and empty coffee cup into my trash bag and being a law-abiding citizen, I eyed a trash receptacle on the other side of the street. It was late Monday night, Memorial Day and there was not a soul to be found, so I drove my car across the street to the other side and deposited the bag of trash into the receptacle. Well, before you can say brownie alamode, a police officer hiding in a back alleyway flashed his lights and asks for my license and registration. He then goes back to his car for what seemed like an interminable amount of time, comes back, and asks me; “Do you know why I am giving you this ticket? “Actually, officer I haven’t the slightest idea,” I say politely. “When you drove across the street to get rid of your trash, you crossed the double-yellow line.” This time I burst out laughing. “Your joking, right?” A single car has not come down this street in the half-hour it took for you to write this ticket, not to mention it is a two-lane road and I was performing my civic duty by not littering.” “No, I am not kidding, now would you like to try for a second ticket?”
Well, that was the end of me and brownies in moving vehicles. I still love brownies, but I know when to take a hint. Brownies and I are simply bad karma. And I don’t like the brownies they sell at Starbucks anyway.
