Story time, reddit.

I was 17, it was my first time at a party. It was also my first time doing drugs. My friends and I arrived at the party after dropping acid, and I went fucking wild. I got into a fight with the DJ because I thought the music was shitty (just hood-rat music that I didn't like), and as we started fighting the entire party just turned into a riot. I somehow won, but I was bruised and bleeding pretty badly (the other kid was worse off), and then I heard sirens. The cops busted in about 5 minutes later ( we were on a large farm property in upstate Minnesota, so they had to walk down the driveway because it was gated off), but by then I was long gone. I ran with a group of guys for a while out into a field, and after we had ran about 2 miles out into the field we stopped and smoked pot for a while. I discovered that drugs had an adverse affect on me that night: I got super fucking paranoid and walked off, thinking that the group was making too much noise. Keep in mind, it was 2am and I was out in the middle of a cornfield, sketched out of my mind on acid and pot. The sky was incredibly dark, so you couldn't even see the moon. I walked around out there for a while ( I honestly don't know how long, because I had lost my phone and my watch was broken, probably because of the fight. I had a pedometer on, so I know that I wandered around for about 6 miles in that field), and I started to see things. I would hear voices behind me, as if they were on the other side of a wall. I would see shapes in front of me, but they would disappear as I approached them. After a while of that I walked into a clearing, with a few trees circling a small pond next to me. I thought I was alone for a while, but suddenly a guy was just THERE. He walked up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder, and I almost shit my pants because I was SURE that no one had followed me. He asked me if I knew how to get back, and I didn't, because I had just trekked for miles through a cornfield chasing shadows. He took me by the hand, because he knew I was high as a kite in the stratosphere, and he led me back to the party. To this day, I have no fucking clue how he did it, because he took a completely different path through the corn (which was high enough so you couldn't see past it) than either of us had took. We walked through miles of corn together, talking about random shit. I only got two facts out of him: his name was John, and he was from Stewartville, a town about 70 miles south from us. This guy was stone sober, so I didn't get why he ran out into the cornfield because the cops wouldn't have busted him anyway. Anyway, after walking for a while we got back to the party. The cops had left by then, and as we walked up to the driveway he must've walked off, because when I walked up to my friends the guy was gone. I asked everyone who was left at that party if they knew a John, from Stewartville. The strange thing was that no one from Stewartville was at that party, save for John. The person who started the party didn't even invite anyone from Stewartville. I don't know if I was tripping hard enough to make a concrete person, or if the guy just walked off before I could say goodbye. In the case of the latter, John from Stewartville, if you are on Reddit and see this post, if you are even real, I want you to know how happy I am that I found you that night, as I could've easily died out there all alone, either by falling into peat rock in a pond or by simply not finding my way out. Thanks, man.