AN: See previous chapter for summary and notes.
Dedicated to the seven astronauts of the Shuttle Columbia.
The Age of Aquarius
Chapter Nine: Strange Vibrations
San Francisco
"Wait, no that was the street," Phoebe said, as she fumbled with the map. The girls were back in the van, trying to find the house where they would be staying.
"Okay, so just turn at the next street," Phoebe sighed.
"Right or left?" Rachel said.
"Uh, I don't feel very good," Monica moaned from the back.
"Left," Phoebe said.
"We're almost there, Mon," Rachel announced, "Wait, um, Pheebs, there's no left turn here."
"Ugh! What is WRONG with this city!"
"You just said you loved it," Rachel laughed.
"Well, that was before we had to—hey look, Haight Street!"
"What?" Rachel tried to look.
"Okay, turn here!"
Thirty minutes, and one 'emergency throw up' stop later, the girls finally pulled up in front of a large, brightly painted, Victorian house, complete with Bay windows and ornate trim. One of the Bay windows had a large peace sign painted on it, and the trim was painted a hideously bright purple. The girls piled out of the van, and stood in awe in front of the house. The air reeked of marijuana, and the faint sounds of The Doors could be heard through one of the windows.
Phoebe and Rachel walked up the steep purple steps to the front door, leaving Monica to settle her stomach in the van. Phoebe knocked on the large green wooden door, and moments later, the door flew open, to reveal a tall, gangly brunette.
"Hey," the girl said slowly, her dilated eyes struggling to focus on one of the two girls before her.
"Hey," Phoebe replied, "I'm Phoebe, and this is Rachel. We're here about the rooms?"
"Huh?" the girl replied, her brow furrowed. Rachel suddenly felt panic rising up through her.
Suddenly, a tall bald woman appeared behind the brunette.
"Pheebs!" the woman yelled, as she snaked around the brunette and hugged Phoebe.
"Hey Bonnie!" Phoebe smiled, and relief washed over Rachel.
"Bec, these are my friends from New York!" Bonnie said, turning to the brunette.
"Oh, hey, what's up?" Bec smiled lazily.
"I thought there were three of you?" Bonnie asked, puzzled.
"Yeah, Monica's down at the van," Phoebe said, "Motion…or maybe morning sickness."
"Oh, she's the pregnant one! Okay, well, Becca and I will help you with your stuff, if you wanna help Monica into the house," Bonnie smiled and bounded down the steps. Becca smiled lazily, and sauntered out onto the porch, her eyes half closed.
"So," Bonnie walked into the bedroom that Phoebe and Monica were sharing, "you guys up for a rally tonight?"
"Maybe," Phoebe looked at Monica, who was dozing off on her bed.
"Okay, well, we are leaving at 6:30 or so, so we can get to Civic Center by 7," Bonnie said, and drifted out of the room.
Phoebe sighed and looked around the room. It wasn't a large room; in fact it barely held two beds. And the house was cold, because of the lack of carpeting (hardwood floors). But it had an old-fashioned charm about it, and everyone seemed really nice.
There were three other women living in the house. Bonnie and Becca shared a room, and Rachel was put in a room with the other woman, Carol. The bedrooms, and the one bathroom, sat along a long narrow corridor that led to the spacious, well-lit kitchen, and a small living room. There were beads in most of the doorways, and political posters covering may walls. Bongs and rolling papers were scattered throughout the house, and organic, vegetarian foods filled the kitchen.
While Phoebe knew that she would love it here, she wondered how long her friends would last.
Rachel was lying on her bed, drifting into a light sleep, when she heard a slight commotion in the room. Her eyes shot open, and she sat up, only to find a thin blonde woman rummaging through a pile of clothes that were in the opposite corner of the room. The woman turned when she heard Rachel wake.
"Oh, hey, sorry…I was trying not to wake you," the woman smiled apologetically.
"Oh, no, it's okay, I was only half-sleeping," Rachel smiled, and stood up.
"I'm Rachel Green."
"Hi Rachel, I'm Carol Willick, your roommate," Carol replied sweetly.
"Nice to meet you," Rachel said.
"So, Rachel, where are you from?"
"New York. I just arrived with my friends Phoebe and Monica. I guess Phoebe and Bonnie know each other?"
"Oh, yeah, they met at some rally in New York a couple months ago," Carol said distractedly, as she set about looking for whatever-it-was-she-was-looking-for.
"So, how did you end up here?" Rachel asked.
"My girlfriend is from here, and we decided that we liked the weather better out here. I'm from New York too," Carol laughed.
"Oh! So, you, um—I mean—" Rachel stuttered nervously.
"Am I gay? Well…I swing both ways, but then, doesn't everybody?" Carol laughed.
"Um—" Rachel bit her lip anxiously.
"I'm kidding, Rachel. Don't worry, I'm not going to try to 'bring you over'," Carol laughed, and smiled proudly when she finally came upon what she had been searching for—her pipe.
"Okay, I gotta go, Susan's waiting. By roomie!" Carol bounced out of the room waving.
"Bye," Rachel said to herself.
She wasn't so sure she was going to fit in here, after all. Shaking her head, she pulled out her photo of Ross, and set it on the table next to her bed. Letting a tiny tear escape from her eyes, she silently wondered what Ross would have thought about all of this.
North Vietnam
"Come on Private, we've gotta get out of here," the officer that had been carrying Ross stood up, and pulled Ross into the Jeep.
Ross was in too much shock to respond. He stared back at the clearing, as the Jeep made it's way into South Vietnam. Shivering slightly, Ross pulled his jacket around him, and fought back emotions he wasn't allowed to have out in the field. He was a soldier; he had to stay strong. But he couldn't help thinking of his sister, and of the men that had died to get him to safety.
What had he done that was so worthy of all this, anyway?
The sound of a revving engine roused Chandler back into consciousness. He felt a throbbing, burning sensation on the back of his head. He opened his eyes, only to discover that he was facedown in the muddy field. He reached around to the back of his head, and winced as his fingers hit the wound. He pulled his hand away, and looked at his bloodied fingers. He sat up slowly, and took in his surroundings.
The clearing had been hit hard, but he could see that a few of the Viet Cong were moving, slightly, a sign that a few had survived. He picked up his rifle, and slowly got to his feet.
The stench was unbelievable. He covered his face with the crook of his arm, as he lumbered across the clearing, looking for Ross and Joey. Everything seemed so hazy, and his head was pounding.
"Chandler," he heard a faint whisper from his left. He turned, and scanned the area, his eyes finally falling on Joey, who was lying on his back a few meters away. He limped over to him, and knelt at his side.
Chandler surveyed the damage; Joey had been closer to the explosion, and had sustained some bad injuries. The side of his face had burns, and his arm was burnt too. Wincing, Chandler looked down and noted that Joey was…missing a leg.
"Joe," Chandler whispered helplessly, as tears lined his eyes.
"Did, uh—did Ross get across?" Joey whispered.
Chandler wasn't sure where Ross was, but couldn't bring himself to tell Joey that. Taking a deep breath, Chandler forced a smile and said, "Yeah, he's fine."
"Good," Joey sighed, and smiled slightly.
"You're gonna be okay," Chandler said sadly.
"Yeah, that's what people always say when you're about to die," Joey laughed.
Chandler closed his eyes, and grasped Joey's hand. He didn't hear the rustling behind him, until it was too late.
San Francisco
"Phoebe, this is my friend, Chris. Chris, this is Phoebe," Bonnie smiled. Phoebe was the only one that agreed to go with Bonnie to the protest. Monica was too tired, and Rachel seemed a little dazed from her meeting with her new roommate.
When they reached Civic Center, Phoebe was surprised at how many people were milling around the steps of the City Hall. Bonnie had led her to a group of Black Panthers, who were smoking pot and trying to look mean.
Chris was one of the Black Panthers. He was tall, and lean, and his well-trimmed Afro sat about three inches from his head. His teeth seemed to sparkle when he smiled, and Phoebe couldn't help but to smile back.
He was…amazing.
"So, Phoebe, where are you from?" Chris asked.
"New York," Phoebe yelled, as the protest grew more rowdy.
"Ah yes, got a lotta brothers in New York," Chris nodded.
"How about you?" Phoebe asked, as they made their way toward the steps of the City Hall.
"Chicago," Chris smiled, and Phoebe melted.
"Hey," Rachel walked into Phoebe and Monica's room, and sat on Monica's bed.
"Hey," Monica yawned, and closed the book she had been reading.
"How are ya feeling?"
"Better. But I wasn't in the mood for a protest," Monica smiled.
"Yeah, me either," Rachel said distractedly.
"What's up?" Monica asked, when she noticed the far-off look in Rachel's eyes.
"Oh, it's nothing, it's just…my roommate is…is gay," Rachel said, her eyes wide.
Monica laughed, "Yeah, I think Bonnie might be too," she said.
"Don't you find that…weird?" Rachel asked incredulously.
"Well, this is San Francisco," Monica smiled, "I'm sure you'll be fine," She continued, as she stood up and walked toward the door. "Besides, you need to get out there and uh…experiment," Monica laughed heartily, and walked out toward the bathroom.
"Yeah, right," Rachel shook her head and laughed to herself. She stood up, and looked out the window, sighing deeply.
"Well Rach," she whispered, "You ain't in Kansas anymore."
If you're going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you're going to San Francisco
You're gonna meet some gentle people there
For those who come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there
In the streets of San Francisco
Gentle people with flowers in their hair
All across the nation such a strange vibration
People in motion
There's a whole generation with a new explanation
People in motion people in motion
For those who come to San FranciscoBe sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there
If you come to San Francisco
Summertime will be a love-in there
(San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair) - Scott McKenzie)
