Nitrous. Kid's play. Fun visions of being in the dentist's chair as a child and floating in a corner of the room watching my teeth being drilled and filled. Nostalgic memories of hoping I'd have a cavity this year so I could have the "happy man" mask put on me for that glorious half hour of dental work. Although I didn't touch any illicit or mind altering substance for nearly fifteen years after those first fledgeling excursions into the realms of the otherworldly, perhaps that's where the interest in altered mental explorations first took root.
Wind forward twenty years and thousands of miles away. The set and setting have changed from a whining dentist's drill in a small wooden dental office in a rural farming town to a night of chat and fun with friends in a beautifully appointed condo in a high rise situated in the middle of one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
Why is it then that I feel a lurching anxiety as I look at the nitrous apparatus sitting on the counter awaiting our use? After considerable experience undertaken with mind altering chemicals, it surely couldn't be over something as small as a fear of the unknown, especially with such a benign substance. Maybe it's the fact that for the first time in my life, a "drug activity" was specifically planned. The gathering was planned for the express purpose of "doing nitrous"
After the idle chit chat and semi awkwardness that is rare with good friends (the sort of awkwardness more reserved for that trip to the dealer's pad where you just want to get the hell in and get the hell out but civility and decency requires you to make some inane remarks about the weather or whatever the hell crosses your mind), we arrived at the evening's agenda and made our way into a dark living room lit with a warm, cheery fire. Pillows are spread on the floor and strategic positionings are made so that if one of us blacks out we won't hit our heads when we fall back.
My anxiety heightens.
After last minute consolations that no, the dose is self regulating, the first balloon is filled.
I am not convinced; my fears of suffocation are not allayed.
After four balloons are filled, the lone girl in the group offers a demonstration. With a sense of the surreal, I watch her lay back and inhale and exhale into the balloon. Each breath seems to require more effort and the balloon inflates less and less. Finally there is a little whoosh as the balloon slips from her fingers. The room is quiet except for the muted psychedelic beats emanating from the stereo.
She lays deathly still. Her face is neutral. Then her leg twitches. An arm is raised haltingly and mindlessly caresses her left breast. She then rocks from side to side and gives small moans that sound full of pleasure. Then all is still and the wait seems like an eternity. A grin slowly spreads across her face and she begins to laugh. The tension in the room dissolves.
One balloon. One hit. I lay back and am so scared I can barely breathe. I get perhaps a quarter of the balloon into my lungs but my chest is so tight that I stop and gasp for air. Repeat, repeat and repeat again. I feel funny....hell, I feel good! My body tingles ever so slightly and my vision gets a bit fuzzy. My two buddies laying beside me start to laugh. I follow suit. Nothing is funny; it's a laugh devoid of emotion. I wonder to myself, why am I laughing?
That wasn't so bad. In fact, it was fun. I expected much more of a buzz, so I felt a bit disappointed. That's when more balloons started to be filled and I entertained the brilliant idea of doing not one, but two hits of nitrous at one go.
Two hits. I hyperventilate for perhaps thirty seconds, clear my lungs completely and lay back. Excitement, confidence and anticipation as I lay back. I raise the balloon to my lips and release my grip. My lungs are filled to capacity with the sweet gas.
And then it happens. My last memory as the room fades to black is the hiss of the remaining gas escaping from the balloon as it shoots out of my hand and follows an unseen trajectory across the room. My tongue feels metallic and my feet start to float. I am overcome by a violent "waa waa waa" sensation that rapidly pulsates through my body and I enter the depths of the The Void.
The Void: Timeless. Emotionless. Eternal. Paralysis. Solitude.
After quite a bit of experience with psychoactives, I think I can handle a lot. I am wrong. This is hell. I try to move, to scream out for help; but I am unable to move. My feeble attempts at speech result in me swallowing which only sends a series of metallic clicks through my head. All those sensations which I used to attribute to the freezing and dental work now come rushing back as an effect of the gas. I'm strapped to a dentist chair with a cosmic dentist and there is no going back. I fight, I struggle. Minutes pass. Hours pass. Years pass. Millenia pass. I'm doomed.
Suddenly, a break. I sense movement and with tremendous force I sit upright with a gasp, my mouth agape and my eyes wide as I embrace reality. Jarred by the intensity of the experience I stare at my friends. They look at me and time goes by without me saying a word. "Are you okay?".......I dumbly nod and continue to stare. Again, "Are you okay?"....wordlessly I move my head yes and continue to stare. Then I fall back onto the pillows and stare at the ceiling. My mind in shock at what has just transpired. Perhaps 45 seconds at most have passed since I first inhaled the gas.
Later as my partner and I drive home (he drives, I sit in a sort of fog), I start to feel slightly queasy. I'm still not really back with the real world. I go through the motions, talk, laugh and take it all in; but a part of my mind is somewhere else. Whether it's the intensity of the experience or the vestiges of the gas remaining in my system, I'm not sure.
I feel nauseous and off kilter for two days.
Was it fun? I'm not sure.
Would I do it again? I'm not sure.
What did I learn? I'm not sure.
I did nitrous.
Wind forward twenty years and thousands of miles away. The set and setting have changed from a whining dentist's drill in a small wooden dental office in a rural farming town to a night of chat and fun with friends in a beautifully appointed condo in a high rise situated in the middle of one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
Why is it then that I feel a lurching anxiety as I look at the nitrous apparatus sitting on the counter awaiting our use? After considerable experience undertaken with mind altering chemicals, it surely couldn't be over something as small as a fear of the unknown, especially with such a benign substance. Maybe it's the fact that for the first time in my life, a "drug activity" was specifically planned. The gathering was planned for the express purpose of "doing nitrous"
After the idle chit chat and semi awkwardness that is rare with good friends (the sort of awkwardness more reserved for that trip to the dealer's pad where you just want to get the hell in and get the hell out but civility and decency requires you to make some inane remarks about the weather or whatever the hell crosses your mind), we arrived at the evening's agenda and made our way into a dark living room lit with a warm, cheery fire. Pillows are spread on the floor and strategic positionings are made so that if one of us blacks out we won't hit our heads when we fall back.
My anxiety heightens.
After last minute consolations that no, the dose is self regulating, the first balloon is filled.
I am not convinced; my fears of suffocation are not allayed.
After four balloons are filled, the lone girl in the group offers a demonstration. With a sense of the surreal, I watch her lay back and inhale and exhale into the balloon. Each breath seems to require more effort and the balloon inflates less and less. Finally there is a little whoosh as the balloon slips from her fingers. The room is quiet except for the muted psychedelic beats emanating from the stereo.
She lays deathly still. Her face is neutral. Then her leg twitches. An arm is raised haltingly and mindlessly caresses her left breast. She then rocks from side to side and gives small moans that sound full of pleasure. Then all is still and the wait seems like an eternity. A grin slowly spreads across her face and she begins to laugh. The tension in the room dissolves.
One balloon. One hit. I lay back and am so scared I can barely breathe. I get perhaps a quarter of the balloon into my lungs but my chest is so tight that I stop and gasp for air. Repeat, repeat and repeat again. I feel funny....hell, I feel good! My body tingles ever so slightly and my vision gets a bit fuzzy. My two buddies laying beside me start to laugh. I follow suit. Nothing is funny; it's a laugh devoid of emotion. I wonder to myself, why am I laughing?
That wasn't so bad. In fact, it was fun. I expected much more of a buzz, so I felt a bit disappointed. That's when more balloons started to be filled and I entertained the brilliant idea of doing not one, but two hits of nitrous at one go.
Two hits. I hyperventilate for perhaps thirty seconds, clear my lungs completely and lay back. Excitement, confidence and anticipation as I lay back. I raise the balloon to my lips and release my grip. My lungs are filled to capacity with the sweet gas.
And then it happens. My last memory as the room fades to black is the hiss of the remaining gas escaping from the balloon as it shoots out of my hand and follows an unseen trajectory across the room. My tongue feels metallic and my feet start to float. I am overcome by a violent "waa waa waa" sensation that rapidly pulsates through my body and I enter the depths of the The Void.
The Void: Timeless. Emotionless. Eternal. Paralysis. Solitude.
After quite a bit of experience with psychoactives, I think I can handle a lot. I am wrong. This is hell. I try to move, to scream out for help; but I am unable to move. My feeble attempts at speech result in me swallowing which only sends a series of metallic clicks through my head. All those sensations which I used to attribute to the freezing and dental work now come rushing back as an effect of the gas. I'm strapped to a dentist chair with a cosmic dentist and there is no going back. I fight, I struggle. Minutes pass. Hours pass. Years pass. Millenia pass. I'm doomed.
Suddenly, a break. I sense movement and with tremendous force I sit upright with a gasp, my mouth agape and my eyes wide as I embrace reality. Jarred by the intensity of the experience I stare at my friends. They look at me and time goes by without me saying a word. "Are you okay?".......I dumbly nod and continue to stare. Again, "Are you okay?"....wordlessly I move my head yes and continue to stare. Then I fall back onto the pillows and stare at the ceiling. My mind in shock at what has just transpired. Perhaps 45 seconds at most have passed since I first inhaled the gas.
Later as my partner and I drive home (he drives, I sit in a sort of fog), I start to feel slightly queasy. I'm still not really back with the real world. I go through the motions, talk, laugh and take it all in; but a part of my mind is somewhere else. Whether it's the intensity of the experience or the vestiges of the gas remaining in my system, I'm not sure.
I feel nauseous and off kilter for two days.
Was it fun? I'm not sure.
Would I do it again? I'm not sure.
What did I learn? I'm not sure.
I did nitrous.
