The Dinner

A few days ago, I got some Copelandia Cyanescens in the mail from Amsterdam. Although my wife didn't know that I had received them, and would be ticked off if she knew I was tripping and didn't tell her, I felt like adjusting my perception, so I decided to eat some. I wanted to trip enough to enjoy things, but not so much that she would know anything was "wrong". Since I'm pretty good at maintaining my cool while shrooming, I decided to eat 1.5g, and take Syrian Rue extract with it. This was a MISTAKE. heheh As soon as I had popped the shrooms in my mouth and had them chewed up and swallowed, the phone rang. It was 5:00 p.m. It was my wife, telling me that she had left her lights on in the parking lot of the pachinko parlor where she'd been gambling for a few hours during the day, and could I please come down there and give her car a jump-start. Okay, no problem. The parlor was about a fifteen minute drive from our house, and I left as soon as I hung up the phone. By the time I got there and broke out the cables and jump started the car, the shrooms were beginning to make themselves known. All I could think was, "I hope I haven't made an error in judgment here..." The drive back to the house was uneventful, but by the time I got there, I knew that I was going to trip much harder than I had figured. I knew that we were supposed to be having Porterhouse steak for dinner, and while I'm not a vegetarian, I have a tough time eating meat while shrooming. I just can't look at that dead animal protein. How revolting! It was unbelievable how difficult it was to maintain my cool while waiting; dreading the meal that was coming. I was terrified that I would sit down to our repast, and just lose it. I had visions of the fight that would ensue when she discovered that I was tripping. Fitting as it might be in the irony-filled world of psychedelics, I would rather have not had the meal served up just as I was peaking. And boy oh boy, was I peaking. This was too much! I just knew that I was going to take one bite of that steak, and spew right then and there. Puking when you appear ill is one thing, but throwing groceries all over the dinner table, moments after being apparently fine, tends to raise questions in the minds of the other diners. Somehow, I made it through most of the meal before the wife noticed my lack of a hearty appetite. She looks at me and says "Aren't you hungry?" I was in a near panic. I didn't know what to say! Oh Gawds, here it comes. Now she'll say something like "Are you okay?", and I'll break into hysterical laughter, and the gig will be up. Instead, she says "did you eat already this afternoon?" Yeah, I ate, all right. You want some? No, no, no. "Uh, yeah, I did." Mind scrambling to come up with just what it was that I ate at lunch (actually, nothing). A minute goes by. Oh Jeeezus I am tripping hard! Why did I DO this? "What are you on?" My heart leaps into my throat. "What?", I wheeze... "I said, what did you have for lunch?" "Oh. Tuna sandwiches." I mumble something about not getting around to eating until late in the afternoon, because I was so busy at work. She's looking at me. She knows. I'm a dead man. Only I wasn't. Somehow I made it through the rest of the meal, and with as much coordination as I could manage, I hurriedly clear away my dishes. I decide to give the steak "bone" (there was still a LOT of meat on it) to my Bull Terrier. After he takes it from me, I go to get more of the dishes off of the table, and when I come back, he's literally gobbling half a porterhouse steak. I thought he was choking. I thought he was going to get huge splinters lodged in his lower intestine. I thought I might lose a couple of fingers for my trouble, if I tried to get it away from him. I did take it from him, though. He didn't growl at me, either. Or maybe that was because I had his collar gripped to tightly, that he couldn't breathe. Good boy. Finally, the dishes got cleared, a movie came on (Executive Decision-Kurt Russell), and the lights were turned low. What a forking relief! Before going to sleep, the wife and I made passionate love to each other, too. All in all, a fantastic trip, and one hell of an exercise in maintaining composure. If you can trip that hard and stay cool enough so that a mate who's lived with you for going on ten years doesn't know, then you can trip anywhere...

/Ki