The acid makes it hard to count the ravers. Hundreds? Thousands? I taste cool nitrous oxide as the balloon forces gas into my lungs. The music changes: slower, deeper. The lights darken. The dancers crouch and start a synchronized sway. One by one, each stands upright and receives a spotlight. Each points at me and mouths, "We know what you're doing." I’m exposed. The lights brighten and the music returns to normal. The dance returns. My back against the chain link fence, my hands numb from gripping too tightly, I have an idea: Maybe it's time to stop doing drugs.
Chris Grossmann lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, with his wife and four daughters. Find Chris on Twitter and Instagram @drgomek.