Blimey I bet SHM wasn't laughing at the time. I don't think I would have stopped running. Seeing something like that would have seriously broke my mind.
Get home, put the music on, didn't give it another thought until the next day.
I have a much better one, though this was mushrooms.
Hackney, again. It's where my mate lived, but this time it was just down from Dalston, slum estate off Haggerston Rd. Done TONS of drugs there, never had a problem. Until...
... first mushroom trip with my new g/f. And she had not done psychedelics for about, ooh, let's just say years. She was a bit worried but totally put her trust in me when I told her it would be fine. We did them with my mate and his g/f.
Of course, it has to be that time you put the most mushies in a teapot you've ever done in your life. We were tripped to fuck, rolling around clutching each other (me and g/f) on the floor of hyperspace while a Funkadelic tape I knw by heart played away in the ether somewhere. I swear I never recognized one note of that tape as it played. Anyway, matey and his g/f had had only one cup, we'd had two, so they weren't quite so blasted. But still fucking blasted. And my mate's silly g/f danced. And danced. It was a hot evening in October (those were the days). We had the windows open. Oh,ground floor flat btw. And the dancing mate's g/f attracted the attention of the local gang of 9-16 year olds. For a while, they just kinda pissed about outside the windows looking in. I take no shit tripping. I'm pretty good at handling shit. So I went to the window and talked to them. They gave it all lip and that but I just stood there, obviously unafraid. They fucked off.
They came back a minute later with fire torches and bats. As in baseball. I don't think they wanted a torchlit game of Baseball though. They started coming in the windows. Had to physically throw them out and race round locking the windows that weren't locked. They were banging on them. We split. Out the back door. Didn't run. But went for a taxi. We'd had to drag my mate out. It was his flat, he'd lived there a few years. He was in (mushroom) pieces. We had to make his decisions for him.
I'll never forget that taxi ride over Tower Bridge. Mate was falling to bits in the back being comforted. I spent the whole half hour talking tripped out bollocks to the driver. "Wow, look at the fucking bridge man!!"
Got to my flat. Danced. Me and g/f did anyway. Mate and his g/f sat on my bed and sobbed in the other room.
We went back to his flat the next morning. They'd torched the front and graffiti'd the back. He never spent another night there. He never spent another night in London.
Hackney.
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
