True Stories: The Bad Trip (Part Two)

If you want to learn about True Stories, it’s tag and what it represents, then please see my previous post.

What you are about to read is a True Story, and everything has been kept intact with what my memory holds.

Other articles in this series:
True Stories: True Stories: The Bad Trip (Part One)

February 1997

I knew from previous experiences that Acid creeps up on you like a stealthy leopard.

Unlike some other substances such as Ecstasy that jumps on you in the space of a few seconds, it’s a subtle feeling when you are coming up.

The house seemed alive with people of both sexes, few of them known to me and I was feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

Source

Who were all these people, had they been invited or was this a walk-in for anyone zone?

…’they are all watching me, it’s me, and nobody else, I can see them from the corner of my eyes… watching, judging’…

The biggest problem with Acid is the paranoia effect. It was something I had learned to combat from previous trips, the simple solution being:

...‘think of something else’...

One enters a state of ‘flippant thinking’, that is an extremely limited attention span. Thinking of something else dissipates the paranoia replacing it with something more interesting.

What is boring and dull when in a normalised state can be utterly compelling when tripping.

Source

@trolleydave had recently acquired a small puppy. It was happily going from one person to another loving the attention and was a cute little thing.

This room full of spaced-out druggies, pot-heads and beer guzzlers and this was hardly the best introduction of life for the young dog.

Everyone was smoking weed or drinking beer and I was tripping,... solo.

So before I continue, here are some tips for would-be trippers.

• Never trip alone
• Always trip with other trippers
• Never trip amongst strangers

Can you see that ALL three of my tripping rules had been broken at the same time? This was a recipe for disaster and it would start very soon.

Feeling I needed a little air, I got up from the chair I had been vegetating in for the last hour and shuffled into the kitchen like a stupefied zombie.

Walking is quite challenging when you are in this state, so I took my time using the walls to keep myself from falling over.

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Maybe I could find a mirror to look into, and see something interesting.

In the past I had pulled faces and seen a tiger roaring back at me, it was something to behold, whiskers teeth and all. Yes.. that seemed a good plan.

I opened the back door and the night raced toward me filling my lungs with cold air. It felt good as I didn’t get along with pipe loads of second-hand cannabis smoke entering my lungs and tended to get headaches.

After a few minutes, I closed the door and was immediately entranced by a bag of potatoes in the kitchen. The spuds were incredibly fascinating, jumping around and rotating in a plethora of colours, the bag keeping them contained.

How long I stared at them is anybody’s guess, but thankfully I was undisturbed.

Stepping back I heard a loud yelp from under my foot. I had stepped on something that made noise but what was it?

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It was the pup and the poor thing was limping away giving me the most terrible hurt look I had ever seen from a canine.

…’Oh no, I had committed the most terrible of crimes and would now face the retribution of the others’…

The fact was nobody had noticed and I had been alone staring at these potatoes, while the rest of the crowd were stoned in the front door playing some video games.

But then somebody noticed the pup was limping and gave me such an accusatory look that I visibly blanched and cowered.

It was not @trolleydave or HeroinAddict but one of those strangers who appeared to roam in and out of the house whenever they liked.

Everyone seemed to stop what they were doing. The TV remained on but all eyes were suddenly on me, the accused, and the perpetrator of this vicious horrible attack on a small little innocent pup who was now whimpering in pain.

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Then it started; the questions, the unwanted attention, the paranoia that this time I could not shake off.

There was no following the rules, no, ‘think about something else, that was not going to work.

The lynch mob was after me and this time there would be no mercy.

It was a witch hunt, I had been caught red-handed doing a most dreadful deed and punishment would soon follow.

To be continued...

All images are cited and are free to use, or in the public domain.

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