First of all, I don't exactly know where this story belongs, but mods, move it as you please. I believe DXM is a psychedelic drug, though it is a disassociative, so I believe it belongs in this thread. Here it goes.
So 2 months ago, me and my two friends decided to take some DXM and hang out. There was friend A, who had only done DXM twice before, at low doses. Then there was friend B, who also had low tolerance, but had a little more experience than friend A. Then there was me, who had done DXM countless times, and could handle it best. Me and friend B decide to take 450mgs of DXM, simply because we were gonna do some drinking later that night and didn't want to die. Friend A wasn't drinking, so he took 600 mgs. So we take the dxm, and just before the come-up, friend B starts complaining about how hungry he is. I tell him just to wait, as eating would make the DXM take longer to kick in. Now, friend B is the worst possible kind of hungry person: the kind that won't SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT HOW HUNGRY HE IS. For an hour, all I heard was "Dude, let's go get food now. Dude, I need food. Dude, can we go get food yet? Dude, I'm so fucking hungry right now." So finally, the onset starts, and we all decide to walk to a close-by gas station. About half of the way there, we start to feel good: jello legs, airheaded-ness, etc. So we get there, and we are all still coming up. I grab some jalape?o chips and a soda. Now, I only had like 15 bucks, and my friends knew that because I told them, but they started grabbing massive amounts of snacks. Eventually it clicked: they weren't planning to pay for their snacks. So they start shoving snack items into every concealable pocket/crack of their jackets. These guys were so high that friend A was trying to shove 2 cans of Pringles into the front chest pocket of his jacket, not only right in front of a camera, but right in the middle of the isle. And the Pringle cans didn't fit AT ALL in his front chest pocket, but this dumb high ass motherfucker keeps trying to shove it in. Meanwhile, friend B is shoving like 3 or 4 bags of chips under his jacket, bags making hella noise. So I walk to the other aisle, the very end aisle, to get away from them before they get caught. Then, out of nowhere as I am walking down my aisle to the register, 2 cops appear and one of them says "Take it out" while looking at me. At first I thought he was talking to me, but it turns out friend A was behind me, STILL trying to stuff those damn Pringles in that tiny as tight pocket. So he complies, and the cops pats him down while the second cop goes and fetches friend B. So here we are, all in one aisle, all of us scared shitless because our pupils are fucked, with 2 cops about to give it to us. Now, this is where I really regret taking DXM. I could have gotten out of the situation, because I know the official laws and such, as I used to be an avid stealer like friend A and B. Here are 2 ways I could have gotten away, and even possibly got us all out of the situation:
1. I could have said I didn't know them, and said I was about to tell the store clerk when I saw them, and gotten myself out of the pickle.
2. I could have told them we entirely planned on paying for the items, we just were "carrying" them to the register. This could have worked, too, because we technically never passed the point of purchase with the items. But, I was high, and I couldn't even coprehend or analyse the situation enough to think of pulling out that card. On top of it, because of being high, I was scared of using this card on the cops, because store clerks have to follow the law of seeing you pass the point of purchase with the items, but I had no idea if cops needed to see you pass the point of purchase, or simply needed probable cause to stop you. I still am not sure.
But, since I had DXM brain, I didn't think of trying any of these things. So, we ended up getting off with a warning, which was EXTREMELY lucky, having to give them our phone numbers, names, and addresses. We also had to pay for all of the items my dumb friends had concealed, which really sucked because I had to use my emergency gas money to pay, and they had over 40 dollars worth of shit concealed. We also got banned for life from this particular gas station, which also sucked because I go here a lot because it is close to my house. I asked the cop if I could not get a warning, or at very least no get banned from the gas station, but apparently I was an accessory to the crime since I saw them stealing the items.
So after that ordeal, on the way back to friend A's house, I realized that if a warning was on my record, I was fucked. I was trying to get a job at the time, so it totally fuck that up, and possibly future job opportunities as well. So, that anxiety, plus the DXM, made me stress all night. I started calling friends A and B retards, dumbfucks, etc. I ended up drinking later in the night to hopefully make me forget about the whole thing, but it just made it worse. I had a bad trip and could barely sleep that night. It turns out it didn't go on my record, which I found out a week later when I had a job interview and aced it, but I still suffered from extreme anxiety when I had to steal due to a shortage of money. Alltogether, this truly was a DXM horror story, but I'm glad I didn't get arrested. Moral of the story: don't steal in general, but especially don't steal on DXM.
So 2 months ago, me and my two friends decided to take some DXM and hang out. There was friend A, who had only done DXM twice before, at low doses. Then there was friend B, who also had low tolerance, but had a little more experience than friend A. Then there was me, who had done DXM countless times, and could handle it best. Me and friend B decide to take 450mgs of DXM, simply because we were gonna do some drinking later that night and didn't want to die. Friend A wasn't drinking, so he took 600 mgs. So we take the dxm, and just before the come-up, friend B starts complaining about how hungry he is. I tell him just to wait, as eating would make the DXM take longer to kick in. Now, friend B is the worst possible kind of hungry person: the kind that won't SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT HOW HUNGRY HE IS. For an hour, all I heard was "Dude, let's go get food now. Dude, I need food. Dude, can we go get food yet? Dude, I'm so fucking hungry right now." So finally, the onset starts, and we all decide to walk to a close-by gas station. About half of the way there, we start to feel good: jello legs, airheaded-ness, etc. So we get there, and we are all still coming up. I grab some jalape?o chips and a soda. Now, I only had like 15 bucks, and my friends knew that because I told them, but they started grabbing massive amounts of snacks. Eventually it clicked: they weren't planning to pay for their snacks. So they start shoving snack items into every concealable pocket/crack of their jackets. These guys were so high that friend A was trying to shove 2 cans of Pringles into the front chest pocket of his jacket, not only right in front of a camera, but right in the middle of the isle. And the Pringle cans didn't fit AT ALL in his front chest pocket, but this dumb high ass motherfucker keeps trying to shove it in. Meanwhile, friend B is shoving like 3 or 4 bags of chips under his jacket, bags making hella noise. So I walk to the other aisle, the very end aisle, to get away from them before they get caught. Then, out of nowhere as I am walking down my aisle to the register, 2 cops appear and one of them says "Take it out" while looking at me. At first I thought he was talking to me, but it turns out friend A was behind me, STILL trying to stuff those damn Pringles in that tiny as tight pocket. So he complies, and the cops pats him down while the second cop goes and fetches friend B. So here we are, all in one aisle, all of us scared shitless because our pupils are fucked, with 2 cops about to give it to us. Now, this is where I really regret taking DXM. I could have gotten out of the situation, because I know the official laws and such, as I used to be an avid stealer like friend A and B. Here are 2 ways I could have gotten away, and even possibly got us all out of the situation:
1. I could have said I didn't know them, and said I was about to tell the store clerk when I saw them, and gotten myself out of the pickle.
2. I could have told them we entirely planned on paying for the items, we just were "carrying" them to the register. This could have worked, too, because we technically never passed the point of purchase with the items. But, I was high, and I couldn't even coprehend or analyse the situation enough to think of pulling out that card. On top of it, because of being high, I was scared of using this card on the cops, because store clerks have to follow the law of seeing you pass the point of purchase with the items, but I had no idea if cops needed to see you pass the point of purchase, or simply needed probable cause to stop you. I still am not sure.
But, since I had DXM brain, I didn't think of trying any of these things. So, we ended up getting off with a warning, which was EXTREMELY lucky, having to give them our phone numbers, names, and addresses. We also had to pay for all of the items my dumb friends had concealed, which really sucked because I had to use my emergency gas money to pay, and they had over 40 dollars worth of shit concealed. We also got banned for life from this particular gas station, which also sucked because I go here a lot because it is close to my house. I asked the cop if I could not get a warning, or at very least no get banned from the gas station, but apparently I was an accessory to the crime since I saw them stealing the items.
So after that ordeal, on the way back to friend A's house, I realized that if a warning was on my record, I was fucked. I was trying to get a job at the time, so it totally fuck that up, and possibly future job opportunities as well. So, that anxiety, plus the DXM, made me stress all night. I started calling friends A and B retards, dumbfucks, etc. I ended up drinking later in the night to hopefully make me forget about the whole thing, but it just made it worse. I had a bad trip and could barely sleep that night. It turns out it didn't go on my record, which I found out a week later when I had a job interview and aced it, but I still suffered from extreme anxiety when I had to steal due to a shortage of money. Alltogether, this truly was a DXM horror story, but I'm glad I didn't get arrested. Moral of the story: don't steal in general, but especially don't steal on DXM.
