TheMerryPrankster
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 9, 2007
- Messages
- 231
[This is my oldest Trip report - this was 30 years ago]
My brother told me that he had taken Artane (Trihexyphenidyl) a few days before. He had taken two or three pills ( I believe they were 1mg each – but I can’t be sure anymore) and they had made him feel great – somewhat giddy and uncoordinated – somewhat like alcohol, but without the clouding of thought and reason. Our mutual friend was willing to share his medication, so that evening we all met up and I took three of the pills, and waited for the effects to come on. We were in a bar, drinking beer (probably a *really* bad idea) and talking. After an hour or so I started to feel it come on. It was not as strong as I had anticipated, and I asked our friend if I could take another two pills, which he gave me. The rest of the night is a blur – I never remembered the details, except for one. I kept asking him for more pills – a fact which I kept from my brother, as we had something of a rivalry relationship, and I did not want it to become a pill popping competition. I do remember feeling euphoric – and stumbling around a lot. I remember laughing a lot - but not a lot else. This was Artane. I could definitely do it again, I had thought. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. I was staying at the hotel at which we were drinking – a grubby room on the 4th floor. At some point I stumbled up to bed and collapsed, assuming that I was likely to have a killer hangover in the morning. And that – I thought – was the end of that.
I awoke around 7 am feeling a little spaced, but not too bad, all things considered, and sat up in bed. To my shock I noticed a bundle at the foot of the bed in which something appeared to be wrapped. I heard the sounds of muffled breathing and sobs, and examined the bundle, and found in it – to my complete horror, a baby. But it was wrapped up so tightly in the blanket, that I could not get it unwrapped and exposed. It was struggling for breath, and the labored breathing struck the fear of god into me. It was suffocating. I tried frantically to unwrap the blankets, but I was still feeling the effects of the Artane, and I was too clumsy to get it undone – my hands would not behave in the way that I wanted them to. I needed to get help – and fast. I went to the door of my brother’s room, which was adjacent to mine, and knocked on the door. There was no response. I knocked again, harder, and called out his name. Still no response. I ran downstairs to reception, and asked them to call up to his room. The guy in the lobby did so, but got no answer. I knew he was there, so insisted that he try again – and again there was no response. I ran back upstairs and banged on the door again, this time shouting his name, but there was silence.
I was by this point fear stricken, and acting in total panic. I went back into my room – to find that the baby was still alive – thank god – but that I could somehow still not unravel it from the entangled blankets. I looked out of my window, and saw two of my friends going into the pharmacy across the road. I knew that they would help me, so I ran down the 4 flights of stairs – the elevator would have taken too long - and I wanted to catch them before they left the store. I made it there in less than a minute, but on entering the store found that it was empty, bar the pharmacist. I asked him where they had gone, insisting that I had seen them enter just a minute before, but he told me that he had not seen anyone in 15 minutes. I raced out of the store, frustrated and angry, and headed back to the hotel. I summoned the elevator, and before I could enter, I saw two more of my friends, from my home town a thousand miles away, coming into the hotel and into the elevator. I walked through the door and found it elevator empty. I could not understand, and went to look out the front door of the hotel to see where they had gone – but they were not in sight. I went back to the elevator and pressed the button for my floor – turned around and saw that they were in the elevator – I must have just missed them the last time in my panic.
I told them about the baby in my bed and asked for their help, but they just stared at me blankly, as though they had not heard. I asked them why they would not talk to me and was greeted with the same stony response. The elevator arrived at my floor and I exited, waiting for them to come out too – but they did not. However, the elevator was empty. Nonplussed, I turned around, and saw them just leaving the corridor through the fire escape. I rushed after them, and ran up the fire escape to the top of the building – but they had again eluded me. I ran back down the fire escape and to my brother’s door and banged on it again. I heard the sounds of muffled laughter coming from within – obviously my brother had brought his girlfriend back with him – and they were having fun and did not want to be interrupted. I banged again and the laughter continued. By this point I was starting to get angry. This was an emergency. What the hell was wrong with them? I went back to the lobby and told the desk-bot to call the room again. Again he told me that they were not there. I insisted that they were as I had heard them, and got him to call a few more times.
I ran back up the stairs and went to his door. I could hear the shower running, so I knew that he was in there. At this point I was becoming extremely angry and agitated. I went into my room and checked the baby, who was still breathing. I opened my window and looked out. There was a very narrow ledge running from my room to my brothers. I saw that his window was open, and in my utter desperation decided that there was only one thing to do. If I was very careful, I could climb along the ledge and enter his room through the open window. It was dangerous. There was nothing to hold onto. In order to do it, there would be a point where I would have to let go of my own window, take two steps, and grab onto his. Under normal circumstances there was no way in hell I would even consider it – and I am a good climber, and something of a daredevil. But there was a life at stake, and I needed to act.
I climbed out of my window onto the ledge, and waited a moment while I got my balance and mastered my fear. I went through the maneuver in my head several times. There would be no time to think on the way. There could be no hesitation, or I would not have the momentum to reach his window, and in the absence of handholds would likely fall the 4 floors to my own death. I breathed, took in the details of the ledge and where I would put my feet, got ready, and let go of my window. One stride – two strides – grab!! I had it. I did it. I was OK. I had to climb around the outside of the window, which by comparison was easy and dropped myself into his room. I was so angry at this point I was almost ready to hit him.
But to my complete surprise and confusion, the room was empty. They must have just left as I climbed out of my window. Maybe they finally heard my knocking and went to see what all the fuss was about. My emotions were spinning out of control, and I walked to his door – opened it – and left the room and headed for the stairs. As I got there I saw my brother coming up the stairs. He had just turned the last corner, and was about 15 feet below me on the stairwell. When I saw him I became utterly enraged. All the frustration of this entire event had brought me to the point of snapping. My eyes were wide, and I was practically foaming at the mouth. I blurted out something – I don’t remember my words – to convey my anger at what had happened. I was blood red in the face, and for the first and only time in my entire life I was ready to kill. I was going to kick his fucking teeth in and break every bone in his body – the *bastard*. I was just about to attack when I heard him say:
“Stop – you’re hallucinating!!”
“What?” I thought to myself, still on the rampage. “You’re *hallucinating*!!” he said again. I stopped dead in my tracks – and like a tumbling mosaic of dominoes, the word s rippled back through the events of the morning. There was a baby in my bed – but one that I could not unravel. My friends going into the pharmacy, yet no-one was there - all of the unanswered phone calls - my friends in the elevator – from my home town who would not speak to me - chasing them up the fire escape yet not finding them on the roof – and the sounds of my brother and his girlfriend taking a shower, yet we did not have showers in our rooms. All of it – everything – I had imagined it all – even though I could quite literally see it – and hear it – none of it was real.
Fortunately it all got through before I attacked him. He asked me how many of the pills I had taken and I told him. He told me that he had taken an extra two as well, and had experienced mild hallucinations that morning – but nothing as severe as mine. He left me alone after a while, and I had to face one of the longest and most confusing days of my life. People kept appearing in my room, and hiding under the bed, or in a closet. Each time it was completely real, but I was at least armed with the truth. This was not real. I was hallucinating. As the day wore on, the visions faded, and by the next morning it was over, and I was back to normal.
When I first heard the horror stories about LSD, which is sometimes completely inaccurately referred to as an hallucinogen, I assumed that it was something like this experience, and took extra care in doing serious research before finally trying it. Artane – now *this* truly was an hallucinogen. It had simply not occurred to me that the main effects of the drug would manifest themselves the next day. The giddy inebriation of the night before was only the opening act, and the main show had followed the next morning.
I suffered no long term damage from the experience. But I had almost killed myself by climbing out of that window, and I had almost killed my brother, in the blood hot rage that the hallucinations had created in me.
I realize that this is not a drug that is likely to be used recreationally – especially in this world of freedom of information. But I am posting the story, in part to purge the memories, but also to serve as a warning to anyone who might be as foolish as I was, and might take a mind altering substance, based on the word of a single user – and without proper research.
Artane – don’t do it.
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_trihexyphenidyl
substancecode_deliriants
explevel_firsttime
exptype_negative
exptype_difficult
roacode_oral
My brother told me that he had taken Artane (Trihexyphenidyl) a few days before. He had taken two or three pills ( I believe they were 1mg each – but I can’t be sure anymore) and they had made him feel great – somewhat giddy and uncoordinated – somewhat like alcohol, but without the clouding of thought and reason. Our mutual friend was willing to share his medication, so that evening we all met up and I took three of the pills, and waited for the effects to come on. We were in a bar, drinking beer (probably a *really* bad idea) and talking. After an hour or so I started to feel it come on. It was not as strong as I had anticipated, and I asked our friend if I could take another two pills, which he gave me. The rest of the night is a blur – I never remembered the details, except for one. I kept asking him for more pills – a fact which I kept from my brother, as we had something of a rivalry relationship, and I did not want it to become a pill popping competition. I do remember feeling euphoric – and stumbling around a lot. I remember laughing a lot - but not a lot else. This was Artane. I could definitely do it again, I had thought. It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. I was staying at the hotel at which we were drinking – a grubby room on the 4th floor. At some point I stumbled up to bed and collapsed, assuming that I was likely to have a killer hangover in the morning. And that – I thought – was the end of that.
I awoke around 7 am feeling a little spaced, but not too bad, all things considered, and sat up in bed. To my shock I noticed a bundle at the foot of the bed in which something appeared to be wrapped. I heard the sounds of muffled breathing and sobs, and examined the bundle, and found in it – to my complete horror, a baby. But it was wrapped up so tightly in the blanket, that I could not get it unwrapped and exposed. It was struggling for breath, and the labored breathing struck the fear of god into me. It was suffocating. I tried frantically to unwrap the blankets, but I was still feeling the effects of the Artane, and I was too clumsy to get it undone – my hands would not behave in the way that I wanted them to. I needed to get help – and fast. I went to the door of my brother’s room, which was adjacent to mine, and knocked on the door. There was no response. I knocked again, harder, and called out his name. Still no response. I ran downstairs to reception, and asked them to call up to his room. The guy in the lobby did so, but got no answer. I knew he was there, so insisted that he try again – and again there was no response. I ran back upstairs and banged on the door again, this time shouting his name, but there was silence.
I was by this point fear stricken, and acting in total panic. I went back into my room – to find that the baby was still alive – thank god – but that I could somehow still not unravel it from the entangled blankets. I looked out of my window, and saw two of my friends going into the pharmacy across the road. I knew that they would help me, so I ran down the 4 flights of stairs – the elevator would have taken too long - and I wanted to catch them before they left the store. I made it there in less than a minute, but on entering the store found that it was empty, bar the pharmacist. I asked him where they had gone, insisting that I had seen them enter just a minute before, but he told me that he had not seen anyone in 15 minutes. I raced out of the store, frustrated and angry, and headed back to the hotel. I summoned the elevator, and before I could enter, I saw two more of my friends, from my home town a thousand miles away, coming into the hotel and into the elevator. I walked through the door and found it elevator empty. I could not understand, and went to look out the front door of the hotel to see where they had gone – but they were not in sight. I went back to the elevator and pressed the button for my floor – turned around and saw that they were in the elevator – I must have just missed them the last time in my panic.
I told them about the baby in my bed and asked for their help, but they just stared at me blankly, as though they had not heard. I asked them why they would not talk to me and was greeted with the same stony response. The elevator arrived at my floor and I exited, waiting for them to come out too – but they did not. However, the elevator was empty. Nonplussed, I turned around, and saw them just leaving the corridor through the fire escape. I rushed after them, and ran up the fire escape to the top of the building – but they had again eluded me. I ran back down the fire escape and to my brother’s door and banged on it again. I heard the sounds of muffled laughter coming from within – obviously my brother had brought his girlfriend back with him – and they were having fun and did not want to be interrupted. I banged again and the laughter continued. By this point I was starting to get angry. This was an emergency. What the hell was wrong with them? I went back to the lobby and told the desk-bot to call the room again. Again he told me that they were not there. I insisted that they were as I had heard them, and got him to call a few more times.
I ran back up the stairs and went to his door. I could hear the shower running, so I knew that he was in there. At this point I was becoming extremely angry and agitated. I went into my room and checked the baby, who was still breathing. I opened my window and looked out. There was a very narrow ledge running from my room to my brothers. I saw that his window was open, and in my utter desperation decided that there was only one thing to do. If I was very careful, I could climb along the ledge and enter his room through the open window. It was dangerous. There was nothing to hold onto. In order to do it, there would be a point where I would have to let go of my own window, take two steps, and grab onto his. Under normal circumstances there was no way in hell I would even consider it – and I am a good climber, and something of a daredevil. But there was a life at stake, and I needed to act.
I climbed out of my window onto the ledge, and waited a moment while I got my balance and mastered my fear. I went through the maneuver in my head several times. There would be no time to think on the way. There could be no hesitation, or I would not have the momentum to reach his window, and in the absence of handholds would likely fall the 4 floors to my own death. I breathed, took in the details of the ledge and where I would put my feet, got ready, and let go of my window. One stride – two strides – grab!! I had it. I did it. I was OK. I had to climb around the outside of the window, which by comparison was easy and dropped myself into his room. I was so angry at this point I was almost ready to hit him.
But to my complete surprise and confusion, the room was empty. They must have just left as I climbed out of my window. Maybe they finally heard my knocking and went to see what all the fuss was about. My emotions were spinning out of control, and I walked to his door – opened it – and left the room and headed for the stairs. As I got there I saw my brother coming up the stairs. He had just turned the last corner, and was about 15 feet below me on the stairwell. When I saw him I became utterly enraged. All the frustration of this entire event had brought me to the point of snapping. My eyes were wide, and I was practically foaming at the mouth. I blurted out something – I don’t remember my words – to convey my anger at what had happened. I was blood red in the face, and for the first and only time in my entire life I was ready to kill. I was going to kick his fucking teeth in and break every bone in his body – the *bastard*. I was just about to attack when I heard him say:
“Stop – you’re hallucinating!!”
“What?” I thought to myself, still on the rampage. “You’re *hallucinating*!!” he said again. I stopped dead in my tracks – and like a tumbling mosaic of dominoes, the word s rippled back through the events of the morning. There was a baby in my bed – but one that I could not unravel. My friends going into the pharmacy, yet no-one was there - all of the unanswered phone calls - my friends in the elevator – from my home town who would not speak to me - chasing them up the fire escape yet not finding them on the roof – and the sounds of my brother and his girlfriend taking a shower, yet we did not have showers in our rooms. All of it – everything – I had imagined it all – even though I could quite literally see it – and hear it – none of it was real.
Fortunately it all got through before I attacked him. He asked me how many of the pills I had taken and I told him. He told me that he had taken an extra two as well, and had experienced mild hallucinations that morning – but nothing as severe as mine. He left me alone after a while, and I had to face one of the longest and most confusing days of my life. People kept appearing in my room, and hiding under the bed, or in a closet. Each time it was completely real, but I was at least armed with the truth. This was not real. I was hallucinating. As the day wore on, the visions faded, and by the next morning it was over, and I was back to normal.
When I first heard the horror stories about LSD, which is sometimes completely inaccurately referred to as an hallucinogen, I assumed that it was something like this experience, and took extra care in doing serious research before finally trying it. Artane – now *this* truly was an hallucinogen. It had simply not occurred to me that the main effects of the drug would manifest themselves the next day. The giddy inebriation of the night before was only the opening act, and the main show had followed the next morning.
I suffered no long term damage from the experience. But I had almost killed myself by climbing out of that window, and I had almost killed my brother, in the blood hot rage that the hallucinations had created in me.
I realize that this is not a drug that is likely to be used recreationally – especially in this world of freedom of information. But I am posting the story, in part to purge the memories, but also to serve as a warning to anyone who might be as foolish as I was, and might take a mind altering substance, based on the word of a single user – and without proper research.
Artane – don’t do it.
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_trihexyphenidyl
substancecode_deliriants
explevel_firsttime
exptype_negative
exptype_difficult
roacode_oral
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![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
Assumedly for the benefits it gives Parkinson's patients.
