In the distance, we saw the red bridge towards the end of the pond. “Guys, we have to go to the red bridge!” my friend exclaimed, as if we were mosquitos attracted to a light. The up-and-down, zig-zag path of the trail that my feet carried me over felt like a self-powered amusement park ride. Meanwhile, if you took a 5 second snapshot of my thoughts, they went something like, “Gosh, my friends are great. I like that tree a lot! Wait, weren’t we supposed to be heading to central to smoke weed? I don’t ever want this to end EVER. Pink and blue everywhere. Candyland. It’s only been an hour?! The bridge, I need the red bridge. Weeeee I’m freakin’ tripping bitches!!!” The red! It was so red. It didn’t just look red. I could feel this object’s energy. It felt red, like how you would think red feels: warm, radiating, fuzzy. When I opened my mouth to breathe, I could taste the redness.