Chariots of the Gods

 

The year was 1975, and I was tripping around Mexico with a Texan named Gary Alonzo.

Gary and I shared an interest in Mayan history, so we decided to visit Palenque, a

renowned Mayan site. We’d seen the block-buster doc. ‘Chariots of the Gods,’ a film

based on Erich von Däniken’s book, where, he asserts, the Palenque

sarcophagus reveals an astronaut atop a spaceship. This, we had to see.

 

We hopped a southbound bus, reaching Palenque the following morning, where we

spent the day exploring the extensive ruins. Palenque was impressive, but—no surprise

—the outer space sarcophagus was anti-climactic as it resembled countless Mayan

carvings—sans astronaut! We called it a day and turned in early at a nearby hotel.

 

The next morning, a local told us of a nearby field of hallucinogenic mushrooms and

explained that there’d be loads of magic mushrooms as it had rained the night before.

Twenty minutes later, we reached a mushroom-laden field where three men were sitting,

gorging on their share. We asked, “What kind of mushrooms can we eat, and how

many?” They responded with “Purple” and “Eat as many as you want.”

So, we did.

 

Creating a path through the damp grass, we ate our way through the field. After a while,

I said to Gary,” We didn’t have breakfast, and I’m full. Don’t you think we’ve eaten

enough?” We glanced back at the guys who were now a few hundred yards away and

noticed only footprints on the path we’d forged. There were no mushrooms in sight; we

had eaten them all.

 

We barely made it back to where the three guys were sitting. One German, one

Spanish, and one Dutch; they’d all arrived separately that morning. Having already

eaten their share of mushrooms, they invited us to join them. We were all quiet at first. I

remember flying, high above looking down at the five of us. As the mushrooms took

effect, we laughed and laughed until our sides’ ached. Five guys, five countries, four

languages, and a motherlode of mushrooms made for tricky conversation, but the one

thing we agreed on, ‘Chariots of the Gods’ was a BUNCH OF CRAP, and Erich von

Däniken was WRONG!! Rolf, the German guy, said it best, “Von Däniken is voller

scheisse.” Every time we tried to mimic him, he corrected us in his crisp German

accent, making us howl with laughter.

 

Two days on, recovered from the mushrooms, we said farewell to our new friends and

resumed our travels. The Mexican mushroom escapade changed my life forever.

 

Years later, I learned that von Däniken had been entirely discredited by archaeologists.

It turns out the alleged astronaut was a traditionally dressed Mayan man, making

customary hand gestures; the rockets were serpents and the flames, serpents’ beards.

Von Däniken falsely states that the sarcophagus (sculpture) was from the Copán Ruins

in Honduras rather than Palenque.

 

Ultimately, five strangers tripping on Mexican magic mushrooms were right, and the guy

who wrote the best-selling book was voller scheisse.