sky pilot || open

[tripp von halle]

how high can you fly?

you'll never, never

reach the sky.

Tripp had a passion for the out door camp scene. It occurred as an escape from the metropolis in which he was accustomed to spending most of his days. Their was a distinct pungent aroma of the beach, and the lofty trees. As well as a sense of serenity within the brush that enclosed their large circle of friends and the beach. There was no way the Fuzz would go out of their way to search for hippies and trippers deep in the night. It was as if they had no idea that they were setting up a temporary commune of entertainment, and fulfillment of hippie values. It was a ritual for Tripp, to go along with a majority of folks out into the vastly stretching woods every other weekend. They'd spend from one day up to two sometimes; partying, conversing about their philosophical view points, and just plain having fun. Tripp knew that each time he came, head leave with a new narrative of the time he spent out in nature.

With each wild party, he brought his guitar and sang. Some would take out their guitars and strummed along, while others either hummed along or sang. Tripp was proud when it came to his singing. He had strong, bright vocals that seemed rare to hear to most ears. Oh, how he liked to sing loud, and play loud. Sometimes, he could retrace the sound of his vocals echoing throughout the timberland. Yet, he thought most people found satisfaction to listening to it. As the night grew dark, he knew some people began to trip on a assortment of drugs. He didn't mind he just sang away.

Headin' down south, to the land of the pines finding my way to north carolina. Prayin' to God I see headlights. He seemed to sing above the voice of others. He strummed against the metal chords of the acoustic, in a rhythmic pattern that followed his own folk rock song. His eyes searched solemnly around the bustling fire pit while he sang, he could see a generally unique amount of people. Some were talking, some were dancing, and others were either drunk or tripped out of their minds. Then there were those that were sitting along side him playing and singing. He didn't mind, he was more content than most.

Tripp ended the song with holding one last long note, and strumming in a upbeat tempo. Stopping abruptly, those who were listening turned to him and nodded. It was the beginning of the night, and he needed to smoke grass to put his mind at ease. Those around him passed him a small pipe with the remaining of charred green, he pressed the pipe against his lips and lit the bowl. Allowing the smoke enter his lungs, then passing it to his buddy next to him. It was going to be a good night, he could feel it.

He began venturing around the fire, setting his guitar upon a small table with a collection of different types of hard alcohol. It seemed to him, those who were drunk were making a separate group than those who were tripping. However, some were scattered about. He went around saying his hellos, adding little comments in everybodys conversation every once in awhile. He tried to be apart the entire party, but some of it was just too large for that. Tripp scoured the area, finding a few unfamiliar faces. As well as one that was familiar, one that he hadn't seen around too much. He was quite surprised he found Jules here of all places, though inviting him, he didnt expect him to come.

He made his way towards Jules with a sunny smile coasted over his warm lips. Standing next to him as he watched her take a couple pills. Righteous, Jules. Poppin' pills, never know until you start feelin' it. Maybe it'll be a upper or downer. Anyways, glad you came. He chuckled after ending his sentence. He looked around briefly before beginning another sentence, pushing his fingers through his dark locks.

[Sienna Rhodes]

Sienna was no stranger to the party scene. In her many years in Kingswood, California, she had quite the reputation for being a partier. There was nothing that the young adult wouldn't try; she practically had no fear of anything in the party scene in life. This reason alone was exactly why the girl had agreed to tonight's latest bash. A good friend of her's didn't want to go alone; he was a reoccurant member of this party scene, but he knew Sienna wouldn't turn him down. A group of near-hippies, some drugs, hard-core alcohol, and the beach? It wasn't a place Sienna had been before, but she'd do anything once.

It had taken Sienna quite some time to get out of the house that evening, however. Her friend had waited in the driveway for a good half-hour before she was able to convince her mother to go home and that she wasn't doing anything illegal tonight. Having been in the tabloids a few times in the past month, her mother didn't want anymore scandals to the Rhodes' name. Sienna highly doubted that the police would be bothered by a group of hippies on the beach on a Saturday night, however. There were pleanty of illegal house parties going on to bust up, and much more important things to worry about. So, there was no harm in tagging along with her friend.

As soon as her mother had disappeared for the evening, Sienna locked up her house and slipped out into her friend's car. The evening was still young, but they were later than her friend normally arrived at the parties. While Sienna adored being 'fashionably late,' her friend did not. There was something unappealing to him about showing up once half the people were already high and the other half drunk. Sienna just saw it as an excuse to drink more and faster. There was no harm in being drunk if everyone else was already there. The way her friend spoke, they had some hard core alcohol here tonight and getting her hands on it shouldn't be too hard. Or, so she hoped.

But, all of that had gone down about a half hour before. In the time since then, Sienna's friend had managed to ditch her and go join a group of singers and musicians around the fire. They were good, even she would admit that. The party was nothing like what she was used to nor what she expected. Everyone was so calm, and even if they were drunk, they were still decent. It was fun, even though Sienna felt out of place with their philosophies and their singing. She wasn't one for life philosphies, nor long talks about life. She lived for the moment and nothing more. If fact, she almost found herself questioning if everyone here were older than she. It was hard to believe that any teenager would analyze life the way that tmost of these teenagers seemed to. More power to them, however. They were obviously more mature than she.

Sienna broke off a conversation with a girl who had wandered over from near the fire now. She wandered over to the drinks, looking for something tasteful. She didn't like the bitterness of a lot of the drinks, though after she was drunk, the taste wouldn't matter. She finally settled on a drink and took a long swig, turning for the next group of interesting people. It was fascinating to see this side of life; it really was. Who knew this side of the party scene existed outside of her own? Now if only she could find her friend to introduce her to some people... then, she would be in better shape.

Never a shy one, however, Sienna spotted a pair of people standing nearby. If her friend wasn't around to help her make connections, she'd just have to do it herself. Wandering over, the bottle of alcohol in hand, Sienna grinned. Everyone seemed friendly, she told herself; she just needed to try to act natural and calm. "Hey, this is a great party tonight, right?"

[tripp von halle]

Tripp was thrilled with the sensation of half-drunkenness as well as high. At parties, he favored smoking just a small amount of pot then drinking a excessive amount of beer or whiskey. Enough just so he could continuously talk about nothingness for hours on end. However, nothing took the cake for him like pot did. He couldn’t start his day off without smoking a fresh bowl. Yes, some claimed he was a dreadful marijuana addict. However, the jolt of mellowness it gave him was much more rewarding than remaining sober. Back at his hometown in Texas, there were more “honkies” existing in the population than hippies. Yeah he’d say he had always been a different one. Through his culture of Texas, he’d say he was a foreigner. It wasn’t often you couldn’t catch him rambling on about his hometown, Austin. Deep down he had a continuing passion for his southern culture. He couldn’t seem to shake the yearning for the endless parched desert land.

California in every aspect was much different than any place he had ever been. Mississippi, Louisiana, Oklahoma couldn’t nearly compare. The beaches were pristine, and the water was the most electrifying shade of aqua blue. There were all sorts of crowds of people. From your typical materialistic people, to the norms, to the hippies. So many ethnicities, view-points, cultures that it was perplexing. Tripp was intrigued by the newness of the state. Deep down, he missed home.

His subconscious was wandering again. He could feel the haziness of the marijuana scattering his thoughts elsewhere. He shook it off, taking a long deep gulp from the Paps blue ribbon beer. The zesty flavor of the substance awoke him from his day dreams of far away places and the present. He watched solemnly as a picturesque figure moved nimbly towards both Jules and himself. For a moment he analyzed her features as he had always done with every person he encountered. He could feel himself analyzing what kind of person they would be before he officially began to comprehend their ways. Peculiar, but he was just that way. A inspector of sorts.

Her voice was fairly audible over the jostling and noises all around them. He looked away at first, he didn’t intend for his eyes to be staring piercingly. Jules was quick to respond, as he had always been a talker since Tripp had known him. “Not too shabby, I still think it could be better.” Tripp shook his head with a disagreeing belief. Taking a quick swig of the ice cold beer before he crumpled it up and threw it into the nearby cast iron trash bin. “Shoot, I’d say it ain’t too bad. It’s pretty cool. Good music, new people, lots of booze and drugs. What better can ya get?” He added with his thick Texan drawl stumbling over the words. However, he still kept a broad smile over his lips.

Tripp distracted himself momentarily, while Jules began to rant about all the “remarkable” parties he had attended the past few weeks. Tripp could hear his rambling about all the extravagant things he had seen at each party while Tripp snatched a couple of beers. He joined into the conversation by ignoring Jules completely. His eyes joined Sienna’s briefly as he gestured a beer towards her. “Ya like Alaskan blue? Man, I gotta say it’s the best dark ale I ever had.” Jules glared blatantly at him as Tripp spoke across him to Sienna.

“What’s your name, darlin’? I’m Tripp Von Halle. This fool to my right is Jules. He sure does like talkin’ ‘bout a wholelotta’ nothin’.” Tripp began to laugh soon afterwards, his lips breaking into a wide grin as he glanced at Jules. He was enthralled by the look of revulsion upon Jule’s face.