snaggle
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2006
- Messages
- 82
This isn't your average trip report for two reasons. First, while it doesn't stray too far from convention, it was written with entertainment in mind: yours and (especially) mine. As such, it may sound more like a story than you're used to. Don't worry, variety is always nice. Second, the experience I'm writing about is a little out of the ordinary. I haven't heard of any like it in connection with coke and so I think it's worthwhile for me to share with you all. I apologize in advance for any rambling--I'm still pretty blazed from earlier--and I hope you find this little anecdote interesting. So anyway let me get right to it, since I know how much you guys love reading about people doing drugs...
It was December of 2005 and I was home from school for the holidays. I didn't have any responsibilities so I was spending a lot of time kicking it with my old high school crew, getting fucked up as is our custom. A few of these kids had broadened their horizons, so to speak, since we'd last seen one another, and had begun experimenting with coke. "This is new" was my first impression; none of us did it back then and I'd never even seen the stuff in person before. Being a fan of drugs I was kind of interested in trying it at first, but due to a few factors (mostly the thought that I might like it--a lot--as well as the presence of my twin brother who did not really approve*) I decided that it was best to keep to my usual tricks of weed and booze. In the back of my mind I still thought it'd be cool to see for myself what coke is like, but reason and responsibility told me that I had better play it safe. This of course didn't keep me from putting some powder on my lips and mouth "just to check it out."
My no coke policy was going along fine for a few weeks until a friend's house party. The night started off normally with some quality smoking and drinking on my part, and as time wore on I predictably became more and more fucked up. I wasn't plastered, though I rarely am, but I was pretty decently drunk and high. At some point as the party was winding down I took a trip to the basement to use the John and ran into a few friends blowing lines off of a coffee table at the base of the stairs. They offered me one and since I was already feeling good and wondering where else it could go, I accepted--completely putting aside my sober thoughts on the subject.
I can't even really recall snorting the coke, through a shortened straw, I'm told, but I distinctly remember walking to the bathroom after taking my hit. It was just seconds later but I was already feeling a little bit more messed up, and for some reason I felt as though I should get off my feet. I decided not to piss as I had wanted to and opted instead to throw some water on my face, collect myself, and quickly return to the party. As I stepped out of the bathroom I immediately found myself kneeling on the ground a few feet in front of the door, my upper body collapsed onto a stereo and a pile of random crap. Thinking on my curious predicament I realized that I had momentarily blacked out hardcore as I left the bathroom, and had stumbled forward and fallen face first into the junk heap. I went from opening the door to being unconscious to opening my eyes on the floor that to me it felt like a movie cut. Needless to say I was pretty fucking surprised when I came to with my face pressed against a speaker, and it took me a minute to even lift my hands from my sides.
Someone pulled me up off the stereo and set me down on a couch, where I spent the next 10 or 15 minutes lounging with my eyes closed, pretty much overwhelmed by the coke. I was flushed, I could feel my heart beating fast and strong in my chest, and everything in the room sounded as if I was hearing it from underwater. I must not have looked so hot either because somebody grabbed me a coffee mug full of water, which I sipped slowly as I came down from the intense experience.
I definitely got an unexpected kick in the ass that night. I wasn't even that drunk, but anyway I guess I learned that blow and drink don't always get along too well. I haven't tried coke again since. Soon after the experience I thought it might be good to get geeked proper (I felt pretty gipped), but in a very weird coincidence I found out one of my relatives had recently gotten quite hooked on the stuff, so I backed off again. This time I think I'll be able to stay away from the elusive colombian yak--I'm pretty sure that for me it isn't worth it.
Sorry, that was a whole lot longer than I thought it would be.
*My brother doesn't control my actions (far from it) but doing coke would give him the ultimate leverage when it comes to dealing with our disagreements and our parents, who we still have to live with during the summer. I mean he wouldn't necessarily rat on me, unless I was hooked on something perhaps, but if you're not a twin you wouldn't understand the delicate power dynamic that can sometimes exist...
It was December of 2005 and I was home from school for the holidays. I didn't have any responsibilities so I was spending a lot of time kicking it with my old high school crew, getting fucked up as is our custom. A few of these kids had broadened their horizons, so to speak, since we'd last seen one another, and had begun experimenting with coke. "This is new" was my first impression; none of us did it back then and I'd never even seen the stuff in person before. Being a fan of drugs I was kind of interested in trying it at first, but due to a few factors (mostly the thought that I might like it--a lot--as well as the presence of my twin brother who did not really approve*) I decided that it was best to keep to my usual tricks of weed and booze. In the back of my mind I still thought it'd be cool to see for myself what coke is like, but reason and responsibility told me that I had better play it safe. This of course didn't keep me from putting some powder on my lips and mouth "just to check it out."
My no coke policy was going along fine for a few weeks until a friend's house party. The night started off normally with some quality smoking and drinking on my part, and as time wore on I predictably became more and more fucked up. I wasn't plastered, though I rarely am, but I was pretty decently drunk and high. At some point as the party was winding down I took a trip to the basement to use the John and ran into a few friends blowing lines off of a coffee table at the base of the stairs. They offered me one and since I was already feeling good and wondering where else it could go, I accepted--completely putting aside my sober thoughts on the subject.
I can't even really recall snorting the coke, through a shortened straw, I'm told, but I distinctly remember walking to the bathroom after taking my hit. It was just seconds later but I was already feeling a little bit more messed up, and for some reason I felt as though I should get off my feet. I decided not to piss as I had wanted to and opted instead to throw some water on my face, collect myself, and quickly return to the party. As I stepped out of the bathroom I immediately found myself kneeling on the ground a few feet in front of the door, my upper body collapsed onto a stereo and a pile of random crap. Thinking on my curious predicament I realized that I had momentarily blacked out hardcore as I left the bathroom, and had stumbled forward and fallen face first into the junk heap. I went from opening the door to being unconscious to opening my eyes on the floor that to me it felt like a movie cut. Needless to say I was pretty fucking surprised when I came to with my face pressed against a speaker, and it took me a minute to even lift my hands from my sides.
Someone pulled me up off the stereo and set me down on a couch, where I spent the next 10 or 15 minutes lounging with my eyes closed, pretty much overwhelmed by the coke. I was flushed, I could feel my heart beating fast and strong in my chest, and everything in the room sounded as if I was hearing it from underwater. I must not have looked so hot either because somebody grabbed me a coffee mug full of water, which I sipped slowly as I came down from the intense experience.
I definitely got an unexpected kick in the ass that night. I wasn't even that drunk, but anyway I guess I learned that blow and drink don't always get along too well. I haven't tried coke again since. Soon after the experience I thought it might be good to get geeked proper (I felt pretty gipped), but in a very weird coincidence I found out one of my relatives had recently gotten quite hooked on the stuff, so I backed off again. This time I think I'll be able to stay away from the elusive colombian yak--I'm pretty sure that for me it isn't worth it.
Sorry, that was a whole lot longer than I thought it would be.
*My brother doesn't control my actions (far from it) but doing coke would give him the ultimate leverage when it comes to dealing with our disagreements and our parents, who we still have to live with during the summer. I mean he wouldn't necessarily rat on me, unless I was hooked on something perhaps, but if you're not a twin you wouldn't understand the delicate power dynamic that can sometimes exist...
