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Chapter 4

MY SECOND TIME
--Ventura County, December 1982

    My symptoms were that I kept thinking about the steak dinner that I had ordered from
room service at the Las Vegas Hilton earlier this month, but had never received. So, my bizarre
thought was about having eight people getting a free steak dinner at every Hilton in three states.
I do not know how many steaks that would be, but I'm sure I calculated it then and I know that it
would be a lot. I kept upping the ante by adding more states like Texas which I knew had a lot of
Hiltons. I told my friends about these steaks and I supposedly made a number of long-distance
phone calls to strangers and talked to them about the steaks. Then, when Robb, Darlene's
nephew who had been with me in Las Vegas, came by, I told him to buy me as many bananas as
he could get, even if they were a dollar a piece. I said that I would give him or anyone $1 for
each banana that he brings me.
    The next morning, a policeman knocked on my door and said that he was taking me for
a ride. I said that I hoped that it was to the Ventura Hilton for a steak dinner with my friends.
Another cop who was with him said that there were a lot steak dinners last night, maybe 128, at
the Hiltons in California and Texas. I wondered how they knew about the steaks. From the way
that they were talking, I thought that they were on my side, but then they put handcuffs on me
and asked me to get into the back seat of the cop car. There were 3 cop cars there to choose
from but I got into theirs. The other ones then left and the first cop car took me towards Ventura.
I was expecting to be taken to the Ventura Hilton for a scrumptious steak, one month late after I
had ordered it at the Las Vegas Hilton. We passed the Oxnard Hilton and I realized that that was
the Hilton that I had meant, that there was not any such thing as the Ventura Hilton. I wondered
why the cop car kept going.
    The cops drove me about 30 miles on the freeway. Finally, we came to a small complex
and then stopped at a small part of it labelled Ventura County Mental Health. I dubbed it the
"Ventura Hilton". We entered the hospital part of the building. I think that the building only had 2
rooms, the Quiet Room and a regular room with a bed. I was sitting in the Quiet Room with 2
nurses. They were about to put the leather restraints on me. I said, "Here, I'll help with the
restraints." I took a restraint and put it over my arms and started to tighten it around my wrists.
They took over and said, "That's alright. We'll take over from here." It seemed that they were
appreciative for what I had done with the restraints.
    A nurse who seemed obsessed with needles gave me a shot of Haldol in a quantity large
enough to knock me out for 24 hours. Later they gave me both Haldol and Lithium. I saw that
they had a Physician's Desk Reference (PDR) and asked if I could use it. According to the PDR,
each of these 2 medicines had numerous side effects. Then I looked in the section called "Drug
Interaction". I got upset and told the psych-technician that if you took both Haldol and Lithium,
which I had, then there could be Central Nervous System damage. He glanced at the book and
then said, "I wouldn't worry about it." I said, "It's not your Central Nervous System, so I can
understand that you wouldn't worry about it. But it's mine and I'm concerned." He just glanced at
me and walked away.
    Paula came to visit and she and I were standing with the two doctors. My doctor, the
short, thin Japanese one, and the other doctor, the tall, plump, older Englishman. They were
talking about my therapy, but what I remember years later is that my doctor looked in the parking
lot and pointed out that he and I had the same kind of car, a Porsche 924, and he laughed. This
must be unusual in the psych business and it intrigued him. I did not like him before that. I liked
him a little bit afterwards.
    Paula took me for an outting to the beach which was very close by. We had fun for a
while walking on the sand. There were two teenage girls who were close friends and looked
nearly alike. One lived in Boston, so they did not see each other too often. I took their picture
but never sent it to them. I kept it at home on the kitchen table in a plastic carrier. People
always asked about them, thinking that they were our friends or relatives.
    I was at the hospital during Christmas. It was a strange feeling being there for the
holidays. The strangest feeling was being a recipient of Salvation Army presents (toothpaste,
toothbrush, shaving creme, razor). It took me years before I ever used any of them.

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