The crowd turns to stare as my fellow High Times columnist and frequent partner in crime Vaporella, decked out in her custom-made pot-leaf dress, and myself, sporting a black Goth coat with purple stitching, step out of the taxi in front of the nightclub Spirit. As we make our way past the green velvet rope and stride across the green carpet into the venue, I find myself suddenly bitch-slapped by the hand of deja vu, sent reeling back to the days when this place used to be the infamous Twilo dance club. I used to cross this same threshold every month with my old raver buddies in anticipation of an evening of tripping our faces off on Ecstasy and dancing to the entrancing soundscapes of DJs Sasha and Digweed from 2 a.m. until noon the following day. Of course, a lot has changed since then—the club now boasts new management and a new artistic, spiritual decor; instead of rolling on E, I was cruising on a combo of Vicodin, Sour Diesel and Bliss white chocolate pot candies; and instead of coming here to dance, I was here to celebrate the triumphant return of the Stony Awards, after a two-year high-atus (don’t ask).
Upon arrival, I picked up my green rubber all-access bracelet and a dry martini and headed for the VIP section, where who should I find but the first America’s Top Model winner, Adrianne Curry, and her Surreal Life co-star turned real-life-boyfriend, Chris (Peter Brady) Knight. Adrianne had been awarded the Stony for Best Top Model, and I felt a certain pride in this accomplishment, since I was the one who’d first brought her name up at an HT editorial meeting as someone we should get into the magazine, after hearing her confess on the first episode of the show that she was a “stoner rock” girl. Adrianne was just finishing an interview as a rather large joint and I synchronistically appeared at her table. Curry, Knight and I smoked and chatted for about 20 minutes — discussing their show, my column and the possibility of them doing an interview or photo shoot for HT. They were both totally laid-back and friendly, and I found myself quite comfortable chilling with them — not at all starstruck, despite the fact that I was passing a spliff with a guy who used to be on The Brady Bunch. Talk about surreal.
