L a party to celebrate the double birthday is scheduled for May 16, 1974, 3:00 pm, ideal time for all we could hang out for a while and return home before having problems. The chosen site, the home of Eddy H. Carabanchel was in the neighborhood, whose streets had become the scene of the dark side of my early adolescence. The invitations were very selectively to the majority of attendees remember them briefly, but seven students of the "José Antonio Larrazabal" attended (including myself), I remember it perfectly: Salvador M. I had clear purpose pharmaceutical chemical, known as active ingredients and compositions of all the kit he always carried with I, Ligia V. a good friend of mine, very attractive woman who was able to sell up even just to have enough capital to their urgent needs, Edgar G. an apparent hypochondriac, without suffering from any disease that he said need half a dozen pills a day to not decompose, Luis Felipe L, a boy of just 12 years (but so miles as if I had 20), typical of the type of activity for being in possession of great entrepreneurial skills, while his young age managed an impressive portfolio of clients. Of course, there was also the host H Eddy (my best friend at the time), who by his foray into Eastern religions practiced vegetarianism and showed strong preference for the intake of mushrooms, consumption (by incineration) of certain herbs and Ravy music by Shankar. Also present were, of course, the celebrated, Sonia F. (My puppy love) and me.
The music chosen for the event could not be more appropriate: Grand Funk Railroad, Lead Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, The Guess who, The Who and some of the very learned classical Woodstock. The atmosphere, though quite heavy, was cheerful and carefree, the kind where everyone feels very comfortable, and nobody wants to break the quorum.
At eleven in the evening, three hours after the expiry of my pass, I came home on a motorcycle "Norton" which I borrowed from my good friend Eddy. The paternal reprimand was tremendous, but does not diminish at all the excitement of attending this event and with that group have conducted an unfortunate as: Edgar G. (The hypochondriac), died two weeks later by an overdose of heroin, Ligia V, (the trader) devoted himself to sell the body, because the sale of his books, uniforms, and getting the loans that some thefts which he did not give to support the vice, and as far as I know, I never could get out of addiction or trade, Luis Felipe L. (The child and brilliant businessman), was murdered at age 14 outside his home, the "pushers" of Kaminal Juyú (my neighborhood), they were not willing to share their territory, Eddy H. (My friend "vegetarian"), died on drugs, kabbalistically a year later by crashing his motorcycle into a wall in the neighborhood of Miraflores, Salvador M. is currently a fugitive from justice, he is wanted for having betrayed his vocation as a pharmacist to take on the identity of a English priest, and defrauding a number of unwary. Sonia F. (My puppy love) I did not hear anything, however, for the life he led, I do not still alive.
In support of my colleagues who attended this celebration, all persons listed in "Taps" (addicted) for other young people, and "outcasts" by their elders, I must say that being worthy, all of them, their bad reputations despite being true icons that represent the worst years of my life, I remember with particular affection. They were all valuable and good that young people between hallucinations, loud and heavy music, suffered terribly for having been trapped in a degrading and cursed the world that only a few survived.
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