sput
Bluelighter
This will be wordy ... I tend to ramble ... But enjoy.
It was the fall of my freshman year in college, and it was a cool Friday night. Just the night before, I had taken a single pill--the roll was fairly enjoyable; but my weekend had only begun. I had been rolling off and on for a year or more by this time, and I had managed to build quite a tolerance to MDMA at this point in my career. On this particular weekend, my best friend J from home had made the trip to Austin to visit. We decided to spend our night downtown at a club where I happened to be employed as a barback. Upon our arrival, the first person to say anything to us as we made our way to the dancefloor was one of the bartenders. The first words out of his mouth were, "Cheap E." Against my better judgment, I paid the fourteen dollars for the pill, as did J, and we immediately dropped our beans there at the bar. Experience had told me that this roll would be basically nothing, as rolling two nights in a row, apart from being incredibly dangerous, is incredibly wasteful.
So we made our way to the back section of the club. As we approached the bartender there, the first person that caught my eye was R, someone that I had spent time with only a few times before. I introduced R to J, and the three of us talked for a while. After a moment, J was visibly feeling the effects of the drug, and R, noticing J's fast approaching inebriation, asked the two of us if we had taken anything. We both said yes, and R then bugged both J and myself to accompany him to another club just across the street; what he said was a better club with better music and a better crowd. J suggested that I go with R, as J had all the while been making eyes with the bartender at the back of the club, and it seemed as though he wanted the chance to stake his claim. I made sure that J had my cell phone number, and R and I departed.
After we arrived at the club, I realized that I hadn't explained to R that I had rolled the night before. As I was expecting, I wasn't feeling a damned thing, and it had been well over an hour and a half since I had dropped my first, and what I thought at the time would be my only, pill of the night. Before I had even the chance to greet my friends in the DJ booth, R had stuffed my pocket with something. I reached in to feel what it was, and my best guess was that it was another pill. I took a leap of faith that R wasn't trying to feed me anything besides MDMA, and I quickly threw back the pill. (Take my advice; *never* do this. You can never be too safe!)
I guess at this point R had decided that the club wasn't as fun as he had expected, and we met up with R's ride out that night at the front of the club. We made the decision after I called J (who was well into the process of "staking his claim") to inform him that I would head over to R's for a while before meeting up with J elsewhere. J agreed, though I could tell at this point that he was both rolling hard and incredibly drunk. But even after my second pill, considering that I had rolled just the night before, I wasn't expecting anything better than a nice tingle or two in my hands.
R and his ride had parked far across downtown, and we had to walk about a dozen blocks to get to the car. About halfway there I fell down. It was like someone had ripped a carpet out from under me, and I fell flat on my knees. I was wearing shorts that night, and as R and his friend looked down to see if I was all right, I saw blood. Normally this would freak me out, but as I regained my composure, I suddenly forgot about what had just happened. I instantly realized that the tell-tale rice crispies were popping in my ear. I was flying up, *hard* and *fast*! I informed my companions that I was starting to come up with unusual intensity, and we sped up our pace. By the time we had reached the car, my legs were shot to hell. They were like jell-o. And not the well-set kind of jell-o either. They were like the half-assed jell-o that your mom would make you as a kid and would only let set in the fridge for about half as long as it really should have just so that you could have some as quickly as possible and shut up your whining. Both R and his friend had to help me into the car, and I fell to the seat like a damp rag.
The drive home was amazing; I've never been so damn fascinated by approaching headlights in my entire life. The car was no more than a few days fresh from the dealer; I told R and his friend that the new car smell was the most utterly fantastic scent I had ever smelled. By the time R had turned back to reply, I was rubbing my head against the leather seats. (Hey, it felt pretty damn good at the time.)
We arrived at R's house after what seemed to me to be hours (it was really just about half an hour), and both R and his friend complained that the pills they had dropped weren't hitting them at all. I had to have assistance to get inside the house, and I was thrown down to the couch. The first thing I told everyone there was that they should turn the music down and the television off. The few who were there laughed about how demanding I was, but then they told me that neither the stereo or the television was even on. As I looked around and focused myself to the room around me, my eyes and ears told me different. At this point I was somewhat scared about how hard I was rolling, and I told everyone there that the E was too much. R told me that I was incredibly red all over. R helped me take off my shirt so that I could cool off.
For the next three hours, I could hardly accomplish anything more than sitting around and listening to the conversations that the others were having. But even that wasn't exactly an accomplishment; I lost track of what everyone was saying in mid-sentence. I had what probably amounted to an eight second memory, and I was constantly asking if had I taken my shirt off. Aside from being a certifiable e-tard, the physical sensations of the roll were overwhelming. I spent the whole night craning my neck back and rolling my eyes in the back of my head. At one point in the night (I've only heard a few others ever tell me about such a thing), my eyes started twitching so incredibly fast from side to side that the "shutter vision" came across as an optical illusion--it literally looked as though my field of vision was steady, but there were vertical black lines that covered everything that I was viewing (and it was so fucking cool).
Towards the end of my peak, my cell phone rang, and I somehow managed to inform R that he should answer it for me as I was "somewhat fucked up at the moment." On the other end was J, stuck downtown. He had no idea where he was, who he was speaking to, or where he had parked his car. The pill he had taken was still in full force some five hours or more after he had dropped.
After a heroic dash downtown, R and I returned with J, and by this time, we were both coming down (ever so slightly) from our rolls. And the end of the night, we were both somewhere where we had never been, but neither of us really cared. When we woke up after a short nap and returned downtown with R, both J and I were in agreement that we were still rolling rather hard.
In the end, the experience was something that I still can't really fully explain. I was completely and totally inundated for five hours or more, and the total experience lasted for hours beyond the peak. I've had others try to convince me that perhaps I had taken something other than MDMA that night in an attempt to account for the length of the trip, but I still swear that it felt like nothing more or less than pure E. All in all, no other roll can even begin to compare to what happened that night, and even though J and I both wound up embarrassing ourselves rather badly, it was most definitely a night I'll never forget.
[ 13 February 2003: Message edited by: sput ]
[ 13 February 2003: Message edited by: sput ]
It was the fall of my freshman year in college, and it was a cool Friday night. Just the night before, I had taken a single pill--the roll was fairly enjoyable; but my weekend had only begun. I had been rolling off and on for a year or more by this time, and I had managed to build quite a tolerance to MDMA at this point in my career. On this particular weekend, my best friend J from home had made the trip to Austin to visit. We decided to spend our night downtown at a club where I happened to be employed as a barback. Upon our arrival, the first person to say anything to us as we made our way to the dancefloor was one of the bartenders. The first words out of his mouth were, "Cheap E." Against my better judgment, I paid the fourteen dollars for the pill, as did J, and we immediately dropped our beans there at the bar. Experience had told me that this roll would be basically nothing, as rolling two nights in a row, apart from being incredibly dangerous, is incredibly wasteful.
So we made our way to the back section of the club. As we approached the bartender there, the first person that caught my eye was R, someone that I had spent time with only a few times before. I introduced R to J, and the three of us talked for a while. After a moment, J was visibly feeling the effects of the drug, and R, noticing J's fast approaching inebriation, asked the two of us if we had taken anything. We both said yes, and R then bugged both J and myself to accompany him to another club just across the street; what he said was a better club with better music and a better crowd. J suggested that I go with R, as J had all the while been making eyes with the bartender at the back of the club, and it seemed as though he wanted the chance to stake his claim. I made sure that J had my cell phone number, and R and I departed.
After we arrived at the club, I realized that I hadn't explained to R that I had rolled the night before. As I was expecting, I wasn't feeling a damned thing, and it had been well over an hour and a half since I had dropped my first, and what I thought at the time would be my only, pill of the night. Before I had even the chance to greet my friends in the DJ booth, R had stuffed my pocket with something. I reached in to feel what it was, and my best guess was that it was another pill. I took a leap of faith that R wasn't trying to feed me anything besides MDMA, and I quickly threw back the pill. (Take my advice; *never* do this. You can never be too safe!)
I guess at this point R had decided that the club wasn't as fun as he had expected, and we met up with R's ride out that night at the front of the club. We made the decision after I called J (who was well into the process of "staking his claim") to inform him that I would head over to R's for a while before meeting up with J elsewhere. J agreed, though I could tell at this point that he was both rolling hard and incredibly drunk. But even after my second pill, considering that I had rolled just the night before, I wasn't expecting anything better than a nice tingle or two in my hands.
R and his ride had parked far across downtown, and we had to walk about a dozen blocks to get to the car. About halfway there I fell down. It was like someone had ripped a carpet out from under me, and I fell flat on my knees. I was wearing shorts that night, and as R and his friend looked down to see if I was all right, I saw blood. Normally this would freak me out, but as I regained my composure, I suddenly forgot about what had just happened. I instantly realized that the tell-tale rice crispies were popping in my ear. I was flying up, *hard* and *fast*! I informed my companions that I was starting to come up with unusual intensity, and we sped up our pace. By the time we had reached the car, my legs were shot to hell. They were like jell-o. And not the well-set kind of jell-o either. They were like the half-assed jell-o that your mom would make you as a kid and would only let set in the fridge for about half as long as it really should have just so that you could have some as quickly as possible and shut up your whining. Both R and his friend had to help me into the car, and I fell to the seat like a damp rag.
The drive home was amazing; I've never been so damn fascinated by approaching headlights in my entire life. The car was no more than a few days fresh from the dealer; I told R and his friend that the new car smell was the most utterly fantastic scent I had ever smelled. By the time R had turned back to reply, I was rubbing my head against the leather seats. (Hey, it felt pretty damn good at the time.)
We arrived at R's house after what seemed to me to be hours (it was really just about half an hour), and both R and his friend complained that the pills they had dropped weren't hitting them at all. I had to have assistance to get inside the house, and I was thrown down to the couch. The first thing I told everyone there was that they should turn the music down and the television off. The few who were there laughed about how demanding I was, but then they told me that neither the stereo or the television was even on. As I looked around and focused myself to the room around me, my eyes and ears told me different. At this point I was somewhat scared about how hard I was rolling, and I told everyone there that the E was too much. R told me that I was incredibly red all over. R helped me take off my shirt so that I could cool off.
For the next three hours, I could hardly accomplish anything more than sitting around and listening to the conversations that the others were having. But even that wasn't exactly an accomplishment; I lost track of what everyone was saying in mid-sentence. I had what probably amounted to an eight second memory, and I was constantly asking if had I taken my shirt off. Aside from being a certifiable e-tard, the physical sensations of the roll were overwhelming. I spent the whole night craning my neck back and rolling my eyes in the back of my head. At one point in the night (I've only heard a few others ever tell me about such a thing), my eyes started twitching so incredibly fast from side to side that the "shutter vision" came across as an optical illusion--it literally looked as though my field of vision was steady, but there were vertical black lines that covered everything that I was viewing (and it was so fucking cool).
Towards the end of my peak, my cell phone rang, and I somehow managed to inform R that he should answer it for me as I was "somewhat fucked up at the moment." On the other end was J, stuck downtown. He had no idea where he was, who he was speaking to, or where he had parked his car. The pill he had taken was still in full force some five hours or more after he had dropped.
After a heroic dash downtown, R and I returned with J, and by this time, we were both coming down (ever so slightly) from our rolls. And the end of the night, we were both somewhere where we had never been, but neither of us really cared. When we woke up after a short nap and returned downtown with R, both J and I were in agreement that we were still rolling rather hard.
In the end, the experience was something that I still can't really fully explain. I was completely and totally inundated for five hours or more, and the total experience lasted for hours beyond the peak. I've had others try to convince me that perhaps I had taken something other than MDMA that night in an attempt to account for the length of the trip, but I still swear that it felt like nothing more or less than pure E. All in all, no other roll can even begin to compare to what happened that night, and even though J and I both wound up embarrassing ourselves rather badly, it was most definitely a night I'll never forget.
[ 13 February 2003: Message edited by: sput ]
[ 13 February 2003: Message edited by: sput ]
