When I was 17 I was visiting my friends house during mid-summer while I had a weekend off from work. I had been sitting on a stash of mushies for a few weeks waiting for the right moment to try them for the first time ever. Buddy told me he knew for a fact his mom was going to be out and about for the entire day running errands and visiting family.
He could not have been more wrong.
Long story short we eat an irresponsible quarter oz each, mashed into fucking Twix bars of all things to mask the taste. Then we start things off by playing some classic Black Ops 2 Zombies. Things are going good still, that was probably the best run I've ever done. Yeah sure, the TV is slowly turning into a series of honeycombs that breathes and undulates, but whatcha gonna do other than roll with it?
Then, with the intensity of an air raid alarm we hear the doorbell and knocking at the door!
*PANIC SETS IN*
My friend looks at his phone and tells me "Oh yeah she texted me earlier, she is gonna come home early sorry man I forgot. We've gotta help her bring some stuff inside."
We walk to the front door and I am officially tripping major balls at this point, everything is way too bright, I can't tell if I am verbalizing my internal dialog or not and everything looks and sounds purple. His mom is at the front door back from errands or whatever. She instructs the both of us to head outside to the patio and set up one of those padded swinging benches that holds 2-3 people.
It takes us way too long. I stop a dozen times to talk about how much "I like the layout of this garden." and "This Rhododendron's blooms are unmatched!"
By now the panic has subsided. We decide to leave what I believed to be paradise at the time to go back inside which was a huge mistake. My friend and his mom are both outspoken people and sometimes that causes clashing to happen more on this in a moment. We sit down to watch TV and for whatever reason this never ending Zyrtec commercial is giving me background anxiety. I feel like the actors are trapped in the commercial and nobody can tell them but I keep the swelling daymare on the inside.
While my daymare is happening my friend tries and fails to roll a cigarette, two cigarettes, three and four cigarettes all meet the same end. He is now primed with irritation. Rightfully so, his mom is annoyed at the mess and they start to argue. From my warped perspective, they grow larger and larger the louder they get.
I am now the trapped actor, melting into this chair. Sitting in my own hellish commercial on the TV screen of my life.
I chug the bottle of water I forgot I was holding nor remember picking up and calmly state to the shouting giants that I am going to lay down in the other room.
All I can do is follow my instincts to lay down, eyes closed. Even though my eyes are closed I am treated to a front row seat of everything I had ever done wrong intentionally or out of a plain embarrassing error. The only thing to remind me I was in some kind of corporeal reality was the sensation of how damn soft that fleece blanket felt on my finger pads. It kept me sane.
I have no idea how long I sat there but as I slowly came back to reality I had a major stomach ache. I sat on the toilet for an eternity and can't shit, my only accomplishment was fixating on how "I feel like sick frog sitting on a mushroom". It was just before sunset when I felt "normal" again the whole ordeal was about 6 hours.
After having my first trip ruined and spiral out of control like that I stayed away from Shrooms for a decade.
