|>> || 1537990205396.png -(2372439B / 2.26MB, 1000x1200) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. My craziest trip was probably the time I took 700mgs with a bottle of delsym on top. I was originally planning on tripping alone that night around 8pm, until my friend called up and asked if I wanted to hang. We did, and went to his grandparents farm because they were away, on the way to the farm is when it started kicking in, I couldn't decipher where we were, even though I've rode down the same path at least several dozen times. Once we got there, my friend went to go play skyrim upstairs in the dark. Obviously, shit started getting pretty intense there. I would hear voices and think their grandparents were back, which spooked my friend. I would constantly trip over or bump into things, my friend seemed a bit agitated, but nothing he hasn't dealt with before with my dumbass. We get a call from one of our other friends who said he had some weed and was willing to share. We went back into town to his place, smoked a good joint, talked, though I was mostly out of it by this point. My friends were asking if I was okay a lot, and seemed kinda weirded out by my behavior. |
It's kinda blurry around here, but I remember my friend taking me home, and the street lights were falling like fireballs on the windsheild. Once or twice, I tried opening the car door thinking we stopped when we were going 45mph. It was about 12am when my friend dropped me off, I remember him saying "okay dude, just go in your house, it'll be easy" and I was like "yeah yeah, I'm not retarded (yes I was)". I go up to the garage door and start to slowly realize how fucked I was. I didn't have a key to the front door, I usually just used the garage door opener, the ones with the number pads... After like 6 or 7 tries trying to press the combination and failing, getting constantly swarmed by bugs from the lamps near me, I try to contemplate my situation, which was a very bad idea. For some reason I came under the delusion that I left my bike somewhere in the part of the neighborhood that was under construction. I went out to go look for it, tripping on the ground whenever I came to a curb or pit in the grass. I could hear the faint sound of tornado sirens, and could see apparitions, alive and dead looking. I got scraped up pretty badly, I eventually gave up and tried going back to my house. Eventually I was able to enter the combination correctly, and somehow made it inside safe and sound without getting the cops involved (the benefits of living on the nice side of town). I was still mad that I lost my bike, until the next day when I saw it in the garage where it always is.
From that point on, I see why people advise against going outside while delirious.