5 Celebrity Benders More Epic Than Most Movies

Panic-stricken, the foursome left the party and decided to head somewhere safe and relaxing: a London nightclub. They didn't make it past the elevator before they started screaming about an imaginary fire. After the nightmare-vision stage finished up, the gang settled down into a blissful peace. As Harrison described it, "I had such an overwhelming feeling of well-being, that there was a God, and I could see him in every blade of grass. It was like gaining hundreds of years of experience in 12 hours." Meanwhile, Lennon observed that "George's house seemed to be just like a big submarine." He didn't mention the color, but you can take a guess.

After the LSD wore off, George and John decided that Paul and Ringo had to get in on the act, not only because they wanted to see Ringo shit himself in terror as a train sporting a human face bore down on him (an experience he would later immortalize in his work on Thomas The Tank Engine), but also because they didn't think they could relate to those two anymore, the narc-y plebs. The band eventually downed some gear together and went on to make musical history, as well as give everyone false expectations about how productive you can be while stoned.

You know, octopi, crabs, jellyfish, lobsters -- that sort of thing. The kicker? Sartre apparently OD'd so brilliantly that it took years for the imaginary aquatic animals to wear off. They stuck around so long that he made friends with them. As he described it in an interview:

"I got used to them. I would wake up in the morning and say, 'Good morning, my little ones, how did you sleep?' I would talk to them all the time. I would say, 'OK, guys, we're going to class now, so we have to be still and quiet,' and they would be there, around my desk, absolutely still, until the bell rang."

What we want to know is how Nickelodeon ended up with the rights to Sartre's underwater friends, and why they replaced him with a talking sponge.

The thing is, this wholesome persona wasn't something that the cast dropped at the end of the day. They carried it everywhere -- and we mean everywhere. Case in point, one of West's favorite stories to tell about Frank Gorshin, the actor who played the Riddler, was that time they got drunk and decided to crash a "Hollywood party," only to find that they'd wandered into an orgy. This is like the LA version of stepping on dog shit in New York.

Says West: "So I immediately went into the Batman character, and Frank went into the Riddler character, because we were getting the big giggles. It was so funny to us, what we walked into. And we were kicked out ... we were expelled from the orgy." Honestly, we still can't get over the fact that West even knew the word "orgy."

Of course, it's not like West didn't have experience in orgy-type situations. Apparently there was nothing that got the free-lovin' women of the '60s hotter than glorified cosplayers, and so West and Ward would regularly find themselves getting down with batgroupies at all hours of the day, with the downside being that they were limited to quickies, on account of needing to spend precious minutes squeezing out of their tight costumes.

So it's pretty much a given that they fucked in the suits on at least a couple of occasions, right? Yeah, we thought so too.

Perhaps in a foretelling of Germany's prowess at all things war, the argument ended with our heroes spilling out onto the streets and very, very eager to avoid getting their beards kicked in.

But the fun wasn't over yet. The trio were wandering the streets when Bauer tripped over some uninstalled paving stones and, in an act of hilarity that only makes sense to the drunk, repaid the favor by throwing a stone through a street lamp. This act proved so fun that Marx and Liebknecht decided to join in and help Bauer rack up a kill count of four or five lamps. The noise attracted some nearby police officers and the group ran for it, only managing to escape by diving unseen into a side street and waiting for their pursuers to disappear, like an old-timey version of Grand Theft Auto.

The trio safely made their way back home, but spent the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders due to vows of vengeance from the lamps' children.

In any sane universe, this combination would have resulted in the walls, ceilings, and foundations being painted with blood and other bodily fluids every night, but no. The Mutiny was a free-trade zone where everyone could leave business at the door and just relax, chill, and partake in any substances they wanted, through any orifice they wanted. On the off-chance that the joint was raided, the champagne cave reportedly contained a secret chest where gun-having types could lock up their pieces, while the waitresses had an early warning system (pagers!) to catch out any law enforcement sneaking up on the premises.

As for the celebrities who partook in the Mutiny's hospitality, where do we start? Alongside Jackie O, Led Zeppelin, The Eagles, and Stevie Nicks, the Mutiny was the de facto hangout for the Miami Dolphins -- so much so that majority owner Earl Smalley, Jr. had this own private suite in the hotel, complete with awe-inspiring decor, breathtaking views of the pool, and a "pink pneumatic bench."

Among the actors who frequented the hotel was Arnold Schwarzenegger, who liked to spend his time hitting on the waitresses (causing one to wonder aloud how "she could possibly mount this beast"), and Miami Vice stars Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas, thanks to a deal cut between the club's owner and a producer to keep the cast well-stocked with nose powder.

At its peak, the Mutiny not only had its own private jet for collecting high-rollers, but was also reportedly selling more bottles of Dom Perignon than any other drinking den on the planet. But the good times couldn't last. The public outcry over the antics at the Mutiny, combined with the fact that the club had gotten so infamous that it'd inspired parts of some dumb movie about drugs, forced the owners to sell up in 1984 for the bargain price of $17.5 million. The new owners tried to shake off the bar's rep, but it ended in disaster and the Mutiny's foreclosure in 1986.

Some local residents say that when the sea is quiet and the air is still, you can still hear the voice of Rick James begging for one last hit.

Adam Wears is on Twitter and Facebook, and has a newsletter dedicated to depressing history facts. It's not as heartbreakingly sad as it sounds, promise!

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