January 30, 2005


Circa Bellum posted about his experiences with psychedelic mushrooms, back in his younger days; reading it brought back some heady memories, I can tell you. I remember with all the clarity of daylight my first experiences with organic hallucinogens. As hallucinogens go - and I'm not good with most of 'em - shrooms are the primo shit. No nasty chemical side-effects, and you're done in six hours or so. Best of all possible worlds, if you're a fucking druggie.

During my freshman year of college, I lived in an all-female dormitory, as befitted my station in life. In the spring of the year, I dated a hippie; real good-looking guy, but with a shade too much fondness for Che Guevara posters and tie-dyes for my long-term taste. Plus, on closer inspection, he smelt of ass and pit. Needless to say, this relationship was short-lived. But I digress.

One fine Saturday evening, Hippie shows up with a bag of shrooms. His also-hippie roommate was coming over with his intensely-hippiefied ultra-Nazi-vegan girlfriend, and we were going to split the bag four ways before going to a party at an apartment complex a few blocks away. We planned to crunch 'em up manual-like, by mouth, none of this labor-intensive tea stuff, and smoke a bowl afterwards, to "clear the taste" from our delicate hippie palates.

Hippie boyfriend, hippie roommate, and hippie girlfriend were firmly ensconced in my dorm room in short order, and we followed the general plan. I choked down my portion of the shrooms, fighting the urge to gag and thinking mostly about the animal shit the nasty things grew in, and hoping, unenthusiastically, they'd been washed before packaging. The Dead played Sugar Magnolia on the boombox - bootleg cassette, of course, Alpine 76. Incense curled over our heads as we smoked our bowl and listened to hippie girlfriend's lecture about the evils of organ meats.

Finally, we left for the party. Now, to my recollection, calling this gathering an actual "party" was a major stretch - twenty or so hippies laying around on pillows, beanbags and futons, by candlelight, toking on a hookah, does not a "party" make. The scene was only slightly more animated than an opium den, but they had food and beer and Jimi Hendrix music. My hippie boyfriend and I settled on a futon in the corner, rolled a joint, and commenced to socializing.

The next thing I knew I was giggling. Stinky hippies were funny. Ha! That goth-looking girl over there is getting yelled at by vegan-Nazi hippie girlfriend for eating a double bacon cheeseburger in front of her! Ha ha! Look at that stoned dude try to find his lighter! Ha ha ha! Wow - white guys with dreadlocks are soo silly! Ha ha ha ha ha! And look at the little faces on the carpet fibers! Hilarious! Ha ha haha hah ha ha ha ha...

I couldn't stop. I got my gigglebox turned over, in the worst sort of way. The mostly-quiet hippie conclave found this behavior annoying, until they were informed that we were shrooming, after which I was given a wide berth and lots of encouraging smiles. One thing you can say for hippies - they're tolerant, kindly, even, towards those who are visibly in an altered state.

I laid there and laughed my ass off, occasionally raising my head to point at someone and mutter incoherently about beaver pelts before launching into renewed peals of merriment, for five hours. When it was time to go home, my hippie escort practically had to carry me to the car; I was weak from laughing so hard and had no equilibrium, no sea legs, with my shroom trip. The walk from the apartment to the parking lot was enough to make me light-headed and seasick; I had to stop behind our ride, to bend over and vomit between uncontrollable spurts of giggling. My hippie date was, to his credit, a very understanding young gentleman; people sometimes puke from drugs, and he was prepared for it. Any stoner worth his salt can handle a puking date.

As I stood there, hunched over and gagging up chunks onto the asphalt, a couple of swaggering frat-boys drifted by, towards the building. At the sight of us, the fat one looked pointedly at me, wrinkled up his nose at the stench, and asked, in a loud voice, "Damn...what'd she have for dinner?"

Challenged, I stood up straight, wiped the barf-strings off my chin, and smiled gaily through the flecks of used fungus on my incisors. "Mushrooms!" I managed to state, before cracking myself completely up and dissolving into the passenger's seat.

At that moment, I thought it was the funniest thing I'd ever said.

I don't do hallucinogens any more. Even shrooms. It's a rule.

Posted by Queenie at January 30, 2005 12:18 AM

Tryptamine giggles. Love 'em! :)

Posted by: Desert Cat at January 30, 2005 02:43 AM

Back in the day, when I played at hippieness, I used to fine-grind up the shroom, and mix it into those tins of hippie-snuff they used to sell in head shops and liquor stores. I think they called it 'Coke Snuff'. And such. I put just enough in to give us stoners the edge with a snort or two, but not enough to get out of hand. 'Maintain' is the word, dontcha know. My cousin and I were out in the driveway, horking up a snootfull, and my Dad came by and snatched up the tin, read the harmless label, and hoovered up about half the tin. Sillyness ensued, to be sure. He still doesn't know.

Posted by: Bane at January 30, 2005 02:45 AM

When I lived in Statesboro Ga, we just ate them out of the fields, if we ever had any left, we would make some strong ass tea with them and cut it with very very strong Kool Aid, nasty, but it would make you fly. Also did alot of orange sunshine, blodder, purple haze and micro-dot, would get them in sheets with pictures of almost anything and they were very wild and cheap. Came 100 to a page. Back in those days also got little tabs of pure THC, just as good as smoking joints, without the pot and seeds flying everywhere and burning carpet and leaving black dots on everything you owned. Man those were the days, an old hippie from the south, Cat.

Posted by: Catfish at January 30, 2005 04:14 AM

Two of my roommates shroomed some our freshman year. During the trip one dictated while one typed, and the end result was a 5 page essay with lines intersecting somewhere between Vonnagut and S. Thompson. There's a running joke to this day that when one particular guy comes over, he bleets like a sheep for hours just to remind my roommates that they went insane and yelled when they both saw a herd of sheep come in their dormroom door and exit through the wall. I was driving one friend home after a Halloween party that same year and was startled when he curled up into a ball and whimpered. It seemed that the tree I parked behind had grown teeth and claws. He hasn't shroomed since then.

Posted by: Will at January 30, 2005 01:14 PM

Not a subtle difference between being a hippie and a just plain partier. There was a rather large portion of my life when I'd basically do anything that didn't involve cooking or a needle. Shrooms where definitely great but required some planning and a support group, especially if you had a first timer along for the trip.

I think I could keep a blog running for a few years on druggie stories. Best part, to the best of my recollection, no harm done. But is that saying anything?

Posted by: Dishonorable Schoolboy at January 30, 2005 05:12 PM

I dunno, I still can't watch Space Odyssey without the curtains getting all wiggly. Reality gets a bit...thin.

Posted by: Bane at January 30, 2005 05:22 PM

Ingesting normally is a fine buzz. Made the mistake of boiling about 40 into a half-quart tea once and fought the very Devil for 14 hours. Worst hallucinations of my life. Never again. Never again.

Posted by: Velociman at January 30, 2005 06:57 PM

"At that moment, I thought it was the funniest thing I'd ever said."

I think it was pretty funny thing to say.

Posted by: the guys all call me Sex at January 30, 2005 11:06 PM

IT'S all very hush hush.....

I love that caption. It brings a very potent mental image to mind.

Posted by: bleedingbrain at January 31, 2005 09:44 PM

I have a second-hand Jimson Weed story I could tell.

Posted by: Justthisguy at February 1, 2005 06:35 AM

Jimson weed is so loco, even I wouldn't touch it! Not by a mile.

Posted by: Desert Cat at February 1, 2005 04:44 PM

I am 15 and i have done shrooms twice. the first time was the worst experience of my life. the WORST. i wanted to die. i didn't halucinate much but i was in a bad family situation, and when they kicked in it was all we could think about (me and my bro). god that sucked...the second time was tight, it was on the way to a concert for new years. i lauged alot and had fun. im not sure if i really like them tho.

Posted by: Mfan at February 26, 2005 11:38 AM

Im trippin this weekend for the first time. Im 16 and cant fucking wait

Posted by: mike at May 12, 2005 10:05 AM

I remember drinking a tea concoction of mushrooms that didn't do anything. Later I went to a bar and met a mailman who had sheets of blotter acid. I ripped off about six pieces and transcended into a stupifying neverland. Everything was hilarious at first, but when the reality came that I was five miles out of town and had to either hitchhike or walk, I chose walking. I stayed up all night enjoying the visual effects of the blotter. Paintings melted into wall paper, and carpet flew two feet above the ground. At dawn I walked to an old neighborhood grocer and bought some ham salad and bread. I ate it on the stoop outside his store. Boy that was the best tasting sandwich I can ever remember.

Posted by: uburoi at June 18, 2005 09:22 PM
Post a comment

Remember personal info?