FiveBucksFool
Bluelighter
This happened 8 months ago and I've used the chemical many times subsequently, but I figured nobody would mind me sharing the story of my first time 
. I still remember it vividly, as if it occurred yesterday.
I spent the fall semester of last year studying abroad in Madrid. Every week or two a bunch of us would travel to a different part of Spain for a weekend. Our first such trip took us to Granada, where we did the usual touristy sight-seeing expeditions before calculating what to do that Saturday night. For some strange reason, students from [a particular US university] were well-represented amongst people studying abroad in Spain through our agency. As luck would have it, two of my apartment mates from Madrid who were with me knew several classmates of theirs (from said university) that were studying and living in Granada. We met up with them and were told about a weekly warehouse rave that occurred on the outskirts of the city. They had apparently gone numerous times and couldn’t say enough about the venue and the availability of molly (called M; pronounced EM-may in Spanish).
A large group (~10 or so) of us arrived at the venue around 2am, which is EARLY in the scheme of European nightlife. The venue looked fairly sketchy; it consisted of a huge square warehouse located in what appeared to be a sprawling abandoned industrial plant. It took all of 5 minutes to find a person selling molly by the half gram in the parking lot outside, and soon all of us had a dose (250mg) in our hands. I had brought a piece of toilet paper with me to parachute the mdma, so I prepared that, and, not having any water handy, dry swallowed it at a gulp (ugh). I still had a bit of residual powder left in the palm of my hand, so I snorted that. The remainder of the group (which consisted of 50% students from my program in Madrid 50% friends of theirs who were studying in Granada) consumed theirs either by just licking and swallowing the crystals/powder from their hand, and/or snorting the powder. A couple other people were expected to arrive, and we waited for them in the parking lot for almost an hour. At that point, I (along with most of the group) was still sober, and regretted spending money on what I assumed to be bunk stuff. Despite the fact that we were about a quarter mile away from the entrance, the earth shattering explosions of a techno-blasting sound system could be noted with clarity.
After our delayed comrades finally showed up, we all made our way to a ticket queue located adjacent to the warehouse. The line proved to be about a 20 minute wait. Even though we were outside, the sound was powerful enough that we could feel the jackhammer of bass in our chests and experience an inkling of melody in our ears. As soon as we got in line (T+1:00), I felt a strange but subtle burst of energy, like I had just had some strong coffee or had remembered something exciting. I didn’t know whether to attribute this to the drug or to the fact that we were getting close to entering the show (which I still would have enjoyed sober). One person at the front of the line paid for their ticket and moved on, which caused the line to move up several feet. When I went from standing to moving (only those few feet), I felt very light and springy, as if my legs were made out of pogo sticks. My hands suddenly began to sweat, the music began to register deeper into my body. My vision narrowed and brightened. I was standing next to one of my apartment mates, Z, who had dosed at the same time as I. He hadn’t commented on feeling anything yet, and I had kind of tuned him out in an anticipatory introspective checklist to determine whether or not I was really under the influence yet. After deciding wholeheartedly that I was, I turned to him and said “Man, I’m really starting to feel this!” I was immediately surprised to see his face go pale, and with a look of scared discomfort he told me flatly that he needed to sit down immediately. Apparently the molly hit him unexpectedly hard and caught him completely off guard. He sat down hard and held his head between his hands, indicating that he was probably alright but really needed to collect himself. I felt a slight burst of anxiety, not wanting to suffer any kind of ill-effect. However, I was able to follow the best drug advice I’ve ever heard: I reminded myself that the effects were temporary, and that the best option was to just go with the flow. I half-forced a smile for no one other than myself, and began to nod my head/sway my body/move my hand in time with the music. Through my half-forced smile, and while nodding and stepping in time with the music, I chatted with the other guys and girls around me. Words flew out of my mouth faster than I could think about what I was saying. After less than a minute, any previous anxiety had been washed away by an overwhelming feeling of excitement, and a strikingly powerful bond to the people in my group (many of whom I had met only hours earlier).
After making sure that Z was alright (he had subsequently improved drastically), we all purchased our tickets and walked in through the main entrance. The place was absolutely PACKED, and we had to push our way through as a phalanx. The heat of the place was what hit me first…I felt engulfed by the warmth, then by the sounds and lights, and then by the crowd as we were absorbed into it. I became inextricably linked to my group, and our group became a part of the crowd. Not in the sense of separates coming together in close proximity, but of being one fluid unit. We inched our way toward the stage, where Cristian Varela (the former #1 techno DJ in the world, and an awesome guy) was spinning alongside another DJ. We stopped ~20 feet short of the stage, and instantly fell into the rhythm of the music. We danced, tossed up our fists, and yelled at each other. Eye contact felt amazing…none of the guys present (myself included) were gay, but every so often we would look at each other and give each other a “what’s up man, I’m really fucking rolling right now” head nod. The group was equally divided in terms of gender, and I quickly took to dancing with a girl that I hadn’t even been introduced to. We connected nonverbally for the entire night. Tactile sensations were astounding, from the feel of her body, to rolling up my sleeves (I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and for some reason the feel of the fabric rolling up my skin was fantastic), to passing around a cool water bottle and letting the condensation drip down my neck. One of the best feelings, though, was touching finger tips with the girl I was dancing with. When the music peaked, I would be involuntarily drawn to the tips of my toes. I would take her hand from in front of her and hold it in the air with my own, and it would be an electric experience. Smiles and head nods were passed from guy to guy, and hugs and squeezes were handed out indiscriminately between sexes the whole night. Time lost all meaning and each moment seemed to stretch out, creating instant memories of pure unadulterated happiness and togetherness.
When the main lights finally came on around 6:30am, most of us were still rolling fairly hard. It was a chilly October morning outside, and the group of us huddled and walked together to find taxis. Groups of 2 or 3 or 4 would break off from the main group as taxis became available, until it was only me and another apartment mate of mine. After finally flagging down a taxi of our own, we went back to the hotel and managed to eat a bite of fruit (I hadn’t realized my appetite would be so affected, but I still managed a bit of kiwi fruit). We congratulated each other on an awesome night, then donned our respective iPods and crawled into our respective beds. A light sleep came easily enough, and we dozed until noon, when it was time to catch our bus back to Madrid. I felt like I was glowing for the entire 6 hour ride home, as if I had taken a few hits of some excellent herb…my mind was perfectly clear but I was immensely relaxed and content and warm and glowing.
Quite the (first time) experience.
substancecode_MDMA
. I still remember it vividly, as if it occurred yesterday.I spent the fall semester of last year studying abroad in Madrid. Every week or two a bunch of us would travel to a different part of Spain for a weekend. Our first such trip took us to Granada, where we did the usual touristy sight-seeing expeditions before calculating what to do that Saturday night. For some strange reason, students from [a particular US university] were well-represented amongst people studying abroad in Spain through our agency. As luck would have it, two of my apartment mates from Madrid who were with me knew several classmates of theirs (from said university) that were studying and living in Granada. We met up with them and were told about a weekly warehouse rave that occurred on the outskirts of the city. They had apparently gone numerous times and couldn’t say enough about the venue and the availability of molly (called M; pronounced EM-may in Spanish).
A large group (~10 or so) of us arrived at the venue around 2am, which is EARLY in the scheme of European nightlife. The venue looked fairly sketchy; it consisted of a huge square warehouse located in what appeared to be a sprawling abandoned industrial plant. It took all of 5 minutes to find a person selling molly by the half gram in the parking lot outside, and soon all of us had a dose (250mg) in our hands. I had brought a piece of toilet paper with me to parachute the mdma, so I prepared that, and, not having any water handy, dry swallowed it at a gulp (ugh). I still had a bit of residual powder left in the palm of my hand, so I snorted that. The remainder of the group (which consisted of 50% students from my program in Madrid 50% friends of theirs who were studying in Granada) consumed theirs either by just licking and swallowing the crystals/powder from their hand, and/or snorting the powder. A couple other people were expected to arrive, and we waited for them in the parking lot for almost an hour. At that point, I (along with most of the group) was still sober, and regretted spending money on what I assumed to be bunk stuff. Despite the fact that we were about a quarter mile away from the entrance, the earth shattering explosions of a techno-blasting sound system could be noted with clarity.
After our delayed comrades finally showed up, we all made our way to a ticket queue located adjacent to the warehouse. The line proved to be about a 20 minute wait. Even though we were outside, the sound was powerful enough that we could feel the jackhammer of bass in our chests and experience an inkling of melody in our ears. As soon as we got in line (T+1:00), I felt a strange but subtle burst of energy, like I had just had some strong coffee or had remembered something exciting. I didn’t know whether to attribute this to the drug or to the fact that we were getting close to entering the show (which I still would have enjoyed sober). One person at the front of the line paid for their ticket and moved on, which caused the line to move up several feet. When I went from standing to moving (only those few feet), I felt very light and springy, as if my legs were made out of pogo sticks. My hands suddenly began to sweat, the music began to register deeper into my body. My vision narrowed and brightened. I was standing next to one of my apartment mates, Z, who had dosed at the same time as I. He hadn’t commented on feeling anything yet, and I had kind of tuned him out in an anticipatory introspective checklist to determine whether or not I was really under the influence yet. After deciding wholeheartedly that I was, I turned to him and said “Man, I’m really starting to feel this!” I was immediately surprised to see his face go pale, and with a look of scared discomfort he told me flatly that he needed to sit down immediately. Apparently the molly hit him unexpectedly hard and caught him completely off guard. He sat down hard and held his head between his hands, indicating that he was probably alright but really needed to collect himself. I felt a slight burst of anxiety, not wanting to suffer any kind of ill-effect. However, I was able to follow the best drug advice I’ve ever heard: I reminded myself that the effects were temporary, and that the best option was to just go with the flow. I half-forced a smile for no one other than myself, and began to nod my head/sway my body/move my hand in time with the music. Through my half-forced smile, and while nodding and stepping in time with the music, I chatted with the other guys and girls around me. Words flew out of my mouth faster than I could think about what I was saying. After less than a minute, any previous anxiety had been washed away by an overwhelming feeling of excitement, and a strikingly powerful bond to the people in my group (many of whom I had met only hours earlier).
After making sure that Z was alright (he had subsequently improved drastically), we all purchased our tickets and walked in through the main entrance. The place was absolutely PACKED, and we had to push our way through as a phalanx. The heat of the place was what hit me first…I felt engulfed by the warmth, then by the sounds and lights, and then by the crowd as we were absorbed into it. I became inextricably linked to my group, and our group became a part of the crowd. Not in the sense of separates coming together in close proximity, but of being one fluid unit. We inched our way toward the stage, where Cristian Varela (the former #1 techno DJ in the world, and an awesome guy) was spinning alongside another DJ. We stopped ~20 feet short of the stage, and instantly fell into the rhythm of the music. We danced, tossed up our fists, and yelled at each other. Eye contact felt amazing…none of the guys present (myself included) were gay, but every so often we would look at each other and give each other a “what’s up man, I’m really fucking rolling right now
” head nod. The group was equally divided in terms of gender, and I quickly took to dancing with a girl that I hadn’t even been introduced to. We connected nonverbally for the entire night. Tactile sensations were astounding, from the feel of her body, to rolling up my sleeves (I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, and for some reason the feel of the fabric rolling up my skin was fantastic), to passing around a cool water bottle and letting the condensation drip down my neck. One of the best feelings, though, was touching finger tips with the girl I was dancing with. When the music peaked, I would be involuntarily drawn to the tips of my toes. I would take her hand from in front of her and hold it in the air with my own, and it would be an electric experience. Smiles and head nods were passed from guy to guy, and hugs and squeezes were handed out indiscriminately between sexes the whole night. Time lost all meaning and each moment seemed to stretch out, creating instant memories of pure unadulterated happiness and togetherness. When the main lights finally came on around 6:30am, most of us were still rolling fairly hard. It was a chilly October morning outside, and the group of us huddled and walked together to find taxis. Groups of 2 or 3 or 4 would break off from the main group as taxis became available, until it was only me and another apartment mate of mine. After finally flagging down a taxi of our own, we went back to the hotel and managed to eat a bite of fruit (I hadn’t realized my appetite would be so affected, but I still managed a bit of kiwi fruit). We congratulated each other on an awesome night, then donned our respective iPods and crawled into our respective beds. A light sleep came easily enough, and we dozed until noon, when it was time to catch our bus back to Madrid. I felt like I was glowing for the entire 6 hour ride home, as if I had taken a few hits of some excellent herb…my mind was perfectly clear but I was immensely relaxed and content and warm and glowing.
Quite the (first time) experience.
substancecode_MDMA
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