One night, a couple of friends were in town and talk of a daytime mushroom trip arose. Had some adderals that night so I wasn't in the greatest condition for a next-day trip but we made plans anyway. Next day we dose in the car on the way to a hilly part of LA. The shrooms were powderized and I chased em with orange juice. In retrospect I realize I performed a variation of the lemon-tek without knowing it. Anyway, as we stood on a steep hill overlooking the city, I was coming up fast and hard. Just as I felt I was about to be consumed by a blast of psilocybin, I inexplicably stood up and did the Hunter S. Thompson walk a few yards along the bluff. Next thing I know I woke up suspended in a bush, completely upside down. I freed myself after a bit of effort, dusted myself off, and yelled to my friends, who were completely oblivious to my plight. I had to explain to them, using deductive reasoning, that I passed out, rolled down the hill and into the bush, where I regained consciousness.
I remember I had a fucked up dream too, or a fugue state or something, while I was suspended in that tree. I can't remember the details for the life of me though.
Another time I was skating on a combo of shrooms and vicodin and I ate shit down a hill, smacked into a parked car, scraped my eyebrow and ear, and then my born again christian friend spat at me from a moving car as I stood up from the fall. It was awesome and I felt no pain until the adrenaline wore off. Only emotional pain from my asshole non-tripping friend jonathan.