Fried chicken

 
At midnight a weary Y trundled into a parking spot around the freetown of Christiania (cars were banned) tumbled out and made their way to the main bar and venue, Den Gra Hall,.in the centre of the community. As usual there was plenty going on in and around the hall and after some falafels from a street food vendor and a few beers the band got their second wind and were disappointed when the gig organiser appeared and after brief backslaps and exchanges took them away to their accommodation as things started to wind down for the night.
No one wanted to miss a second of what Christiania had to offer. It was a wonderful place full of art, music, community, characterful homes, quirky types and impromptu happenings. Artists, musicians, performers of all stripe, thinkers, dreamers and to be fair a number of  wasters were attracted from far and wide to absorb and suck up the creative vibes and juices. The readily available drugs helped but were not as important or prevalent as detractors made out.
Christiania had been around since the late sixties when various counter cultural types, hippies and Christians moved into abandoned military buildings at Badsmandsstraedes barracks intent on creating a different life based on community and freedom. Despite constant attempts to remove, normalize or develop the area its status as a ‘social experiment’ started to cement and strangely the community even became a bit of a tourist attraction. In some ways it started to resemble a tiny country within a country self governing with all the normal utilities as well as venues, communal baths, recycling, shops and workshops. It even had its own flag. Not surprisingly due to the afore mentioned wasters a drug problem arose but was quickly dealt with internally and though hash was still sold and used the pushers and junkies were either physically thrown out or offered help to rehabilitate. Most relocated.
Just before AJ, their host left them for the night a joint was passed round.
“This is something new boys, from Wageningen, made in labs..a bit strong so go careful”
He disappeared leaving the band with one small joint which had a suspiciously luminescent green tinge. Mo took a drag and passed the joint round, the room filled with a deep skunky smell as everyone had a toke and started to prepare for sleep.
It wasn’t long before the band realized the potency of what they had just imbibed
“Hey Mo, whats the capital of Pluto?” said Jer his pupils like pinpricks in his wide staring eyes
This seemed like the funniest thing Little Legs had ever heard and he laughed until tears ran down his face. Almost instantly his euphoria was replaced with a deep spiralling paranoia and he became certain that everyone was staring at him with disdain and mockery. Smiles became cruel grins, glances penetrating insights into his weaknesses. Little did he know that everyone else was experiencing the same feelings and eventually unable to bear each other’s company the band fled out of the door and disappeared into the four corners of Christiania. Little legs found himself a safe haven under a hedge where he sat staring at a worm cast for 2 hours. When he pulled himself together he found his way back to the accommodation and crawled into one of the bunkbeds and fell into an instantaneous deep sleep. When he woke and looked around he noticed that none of the other bunks had been used. He wandered around the house until he heard a sigh and a groan from a stairwell leading to a basement. There he found the rest of the band asleep on an assortment of unsuitable and very uncomfortable looking bedding. Somehow Mo had balanced on a rocking horse and Steve rose with a terrible noise from a set of plastic venetian blinds. The others rose from similar terrible locations. Walter was not to be seen.