Resonance Dreaming: Nitrous Oxide, Nos and Hippie Crack

A waitress sauntered elegantly over to our table; she was dressed in a thin, light green blouse, which was cropped short and ran tight just below her breasts and a darker, thick pair of green Thai-fishing trousers hung loosely around her hips. Her long, dark brown hair was tied up very loosely. The area around her right eye and cheek was delicately painted with an intricate blue pattern, wave-like and layered with patches of sparkle. I remember watching as dolphins appeared, swimming in and out of the tide, until her eye caught me and she smiled. Bending down between Cole and I she asked: "Would you like some balloons with your hookah?"

"Nos?" We both answered.

"Nos. Hippie crack. Balloon?"

We nodded and she disappeared out back. Soon after, the slow hissing sound of a nitrous oxide filling balloon whistled and hissed out to our ears. When she returned she was holding one blue and one red balloon. They were small extensions of her arms. Handing me the red one, she said "enjoy", smiled and went and sat down with some trippers in the corner, immediately falling into her own bubble of conversation. An elation dashed across our faces: "Chin, chin" Cole said, proffering his balloon, "to Davy". We clashed the two balloons together and thus plunged into the first of a dozen or so nos-led ecstasies that late summer weekend.