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First Trip in Detail

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First Trip – Chocolate and Gibberish

Right now it is 9:42am, Sunday, June 23, exactly eleven hours since we dropped the mushrooms on some delicious chocolate bars. The hallucinations have stopped; the God Chair and the History Monster are again just figments of my imagination. Being in the mellow, introspective mood that I am right now, I will recount the events with occurred to the four of us in a messy, messy apartment. It was my first experience with psychedelic drugs.

The names have been changed to protect the foolish.

Saturday 11:05AM

I get out of the shower and find a message on my door that says “Call Mark”. I was immediately excited because the two previous weekends we’d attempted to track down mushrooms and Mark said he’d call me as soon as he got some. He wasn’t home, so I called my other buddy, Ryan, who said he’d be with us when we dropped. He told me to come over after supper with the intention of contacting Mark when he got off work. I still wasn’t certain at this point that we would end up doing them, because both Mark and Ryan are often fickle and moody.

Saturday 8:45PM

Ryan and I smoked bowls until Mark finally phones and he confirms, yes, we will trip tonight. At Mark’s place. He picks us up and introduces us to Kirk. He seemed like a nice guy, and Mark said he had tripped lots of times on high doses.

We go down to Blockbuster to rent a movie because Mark was concerned that if we didn’t waste time looking for a movie, we’d end up dropping the mushrooms too soon and crashing too soon. I thought the earlier the better, but it was his mushrooms and his house, and he even bought weed for Ryan, so he could get real stoned and maybe not feel out of place, so I just bit my tongue and waited. After and hour of examining the shit movies on the wall, we end up getting Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which I had suggested right off the bat.

In the car on the way to the apartment, Mark passed the bag of shrooms around for all to see. They were big, white mushrooms. I am no mushroom expert, but they looked good.

Dramatis Personae:
Mark – Known him for 14 years, off and on. Self-conscious, insecure, a tad strange, but a truly good human being whom I trust deeply.
Ryan – Known him for 13 years, friends for 10. I trust him too, but sometimes he is out of control. He is notorious for getting loud and sometimes whiny. Super good guy, but has that compulsion to try and put every thought into words. You know what I mean.
Kirk – Known him for forty minutes. Strangely I was worried about him least. He was the most experienced one with mushrooms.
Me (Dante) – I am good at staying relaxed when super high, but had zero mushroom experience. I was pumped but a little nervous.

Saturday 10:40PM

When we get to the apartment, we clean up some shit lying around that be don’t want to get wrecked, and then Mark dumps out his 7-11 bag with about nine chocolate bars and the mushroom bag. I am still a little baked at this point. Mark says we had between ten and eleven grams. Now Ryan says he’s going to drop. We eyeball it and make piles. Rough estimates: Mark 3.5g; Kirk 3g; Ryan 2g; Me: 2.75g.

I ate mine on three Reese’s peanut butter cups. They didn’t taste terrible at all. The Reese’s were sublime as usual. When they were gone, we all sat. I sat in a big armchair, and the other three sat on the couch. Before the mushrooms even took effect, I named it the God Chair. The name stuck all night.

We put on the movie and sit back. Now I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know how many I had taken, and they were already inside me. I just forgot my concerns and watched the movie. About when they picked up the hitchhiker, the drugs started to take effect…

Ryan was first. I felt kind of stoned, like I had taken a monstrous bong hoot and it was taking its time acting on me. Anyway, Ryan keeps saying he’s tripping so hard and I thought he was full of shit because he says stuff like that when he’s just baked. But then the laughing started. He was laughing sooo much and soooo loud I thought he was going to explode. I, meanwhile, am coming up fast and don’t know if I’m in for a level 1 or a level 3 or more. So I kept telling him to shut up (we all sort of did). Not in a rude way, but I really wanted him to shut up. He was making me think I’m in for a night of catatonic despair, unable to escape his laughing and freaking out.

I looked at the ceiling, and it was the kind with the white bumps (you know the kind). Anyway the bumps were flowing and moving around like there was a lake of cottage cheese on the ceiling. The God Chair faced a wood-veneer wall with vertical grain. I knew it was brown but it became slimy green and the wood grain moved like it was a thick liquid. Ryan was still laughing but not as bad. He would just occasionally go into a fit of laughter. The movie was giving me bad vibes even though I’ve seen in ten times. So I stood up to assess the situation. The carpet looked like it was liquid too and everything I looked at had these flowing, moving edges. Then I looked around and the room seemed like it had been repainted. The paint was fresh and bright and yellow, even though it’s plain white.

Then I became aware of a soft roaring in the background getting louder, like an ocean. The A/C unit was on, and it seemed to have a personality. It had two framed pictures on top of it that looked like gaping eyes trying to guilt me into putting more effort remembering the past. I was getting creeped out and nervous because this was only the beginning, and Ryan was already super fucked, and I ate more than he did. I knew at any minute things were going to all come apart. Everything seemed like an omen of what was to come. There was a cabinet against the veneer wall with a different kind of wood grain. It too had eyes and was staring like a psycho at all of us. Mark kept saying if anyone was too fucked they could lay down in his room. I got up and mumbled some gibberish and went to the bedroom with the intention of playing Tool and Pink Floyd to ground me a bit. The room is completely covered in clothing and crap and magazines and garbage. I wade through it, respecting all of the laundry and its own personal space. I’m starting to get a grip again temporarily so I sit down to try and operate the computer so it will play Tool. Now, I know I was doing everything right, but Winamp AND Windows media player kept freezing up. I managed to hear most of Stinkfist before it froze. I remember that I was using the familiarity of Maynard James Keenan’s voice to remind me that all is ok. Tool sings lots of songs about being fucked on psychedelic drugs, so I felt not alone, sort of.

Then I heard the other guys laughing and went back to the movie. At this point I kept alternating believing that I’m in control and ok, and believing I’m going to totally lose it. Sometimes the movie was super funny and sometimes it unnerved me, so I started drawing to perhaps lift my spirits. I tried to draw happy things, and I drew a stick guy and a happy sun but the sun looked so cold and unforgiving. The stick guy’s limbs were slowly bending and moving and I put down the paper and went to take another crack at Tool.

Mark kept asking me if I’m okay because I was keeping to my self and going back and forth to the bedroom. I told him I was fine but he was obviously more fucked than I. He was trying to reassure me but he was totally talking gibberish. He would start one thought and then finish the sentence talking about something totally unrelated. I ignored him and nodded and eventually he concluded his lecture. He was really confused. I’m glad I know him so well or I might have trusted his pointless gibberish. I sort of had things figured out. I turned on the windows media player and instantly there was dirty ass fucking going on. I had stumbled onto Mark’s porn stash. I turned it all off and gave up. I played with some Star Wars guys that were on the floor and then went back to the living room.

Each time I walked the hall between the bedroom and living room, stranger things happened along the way. The closet I passed was full of clown costumes and silly ruffled scarves. The potatoes in his pantry were sprouting before my eyes.

Mark was looking more uneasy and the movie was at the part where he takes too much adrenocrome and he gets fucked. So he got up and turned it off, without the usual appeal for mutual consent. He must have been fucked. There was a collective anxiety between the four of us. I know we could all feel it. All through this conversations were started, halted, bits of gibberish are said and taken back or abandoned, some people’s issues rose to the surface. So I did my best to be cool and lighthearted so no one got upset. We were all very high, some more than others. Ryan wasn’t out of control any longer, but the waves kept coming back. We all kept remembering that we had taken drugs like it was some great revelation that explained so much (it really did though). I didn’t want to forget this fact, so I said I was going to the bedroom (which I had referred to as ‘my galaxy’ all night) to make a sign that says ‘we’re all high.’ I came back with a pencil-crayoned sign that said “Don’t forget, we’re all high”. I set up a chair across from our seats and sat the sign in the chair. Immediately, I felt in control and playful again. Ryan said he did too.

But by this point, I was all too aware of the gibberish. I realized that ninety percent of what people say is pointless and meaningless. Everyone else kept wanting to talk and explain their feelings. Except Kirk. He didn’t talk much but was very much ‘there’. Mark kept saying things he doesn’t like about himself like he always does. He says he doesn’t mind living in filth and went to great lengths to explain that he is at peace with how messy his apartment was. I didn’t want to listen to his banter so I went exploring. The journey between the living room and the bedroom was becoming greater and greater, but I felt more welcome every time I entered. Random objects in Mark’s room seemed ready to spring to life. I still though I was going to start peaking and go even crazier but then I realized what time it was. It was 2:30. We were already 3 and a half hours in and I knew it wasn’t going to get more intense. So we smoked joints for a while. Mark was still tripping balls, Ryan was coming down, and I never guessed at Kirk’s state because he always seemed pretty straight. Ryan and I were laughing at shit like we do when we get stoned.

I apologized to Ryan for being snippy at him for laughing before and he said it was okay.

Sunday -- 3:00AM

We were all coming down. We were stoned from the joints and still a bit shroomy, reminiscing about stuff that happened during the trip. Ryan left because he had to work at noon. By the last two hours of the trip I was in a great mood. I had kept it together quite well. I don’t think I tripped as hard as everyone else for some reason. Things never totally fell apart as I was expecting.

Sunday -- 4:30AM

Mark said I could crash in his room. He came to the bedroom with me to clean up some shit or something (he was still confused) and kept explaining weird points he was thinking of, just neverending gibberish. He laid down on the bed I was intending to sleep on and started talking like I was a fucking bartender. I tried to hint to him that life is better when you stop trying to put it all into words and analyze it. He never got it, and about twenty minutes of him blathering he left and I tried to sleep.

I didn’t sleep till about 5 and woke up at ten to nine to a loud alarm. I got up. Mark was sleeping in his Mom’s room with the alarm clock blaring in his ear.

Sunday 9:30AM

I decided to go home and get some sleep there because Mark’s house is dirty. As I was tying my shoes I saw the paper by the front door. GIRL SHOT IN NECK read the headline. I opened it up and it said Ann Landers Dead at 86.

Conclusion

All in all the trip was pretty good. I would say it was level 2. I would have taken more but I thought I had taken a lot. We just eyeballed them so who knows. Next time I would like to try a level 3 but it would be so much nicer to have a clean house. I kept thinking it was too crazy until it wasn’t crazy enough. Next time I’ll be a lot less nervous and let go a bit.

Dante

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